Nahtaivel: Leviathan Retold
by ChickWithThePurpleGuitar
Summary: The books have been sabotaged. The characters are dying in mysterious ways. Two fans must save the prince and his airman from doom and destruction, while somehow keeping themselves alive at the same time. Spoilers for Goliath, but during Leviathan. R&R!
1. Chapter 1 Regina & Bethany

**A/N: Here's my new story that I wrote with my friend Bramblepool (who has no account, sadly)! I hope you like it! Spoilers for Goliath, although later chapters take place during Leviathan.**

**WARNING: Characters may seem a little Mary-Sueish at beginning. I promise they get better. R&R!**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Leviathan. All rights go to Scott Westerfeld.**

Chapter One

Bethany and Regina had few talents and they knew it.

The two best friends had been failures their whole lives. They got decent grades and had enough friends, but they were clumsy and often tripped over their own feet and were too sarcastic most of the time and most people said they were just plain annoying. It seemed to the girls as if they were always ruining things that were important.

However, they made up for it. Regina, the younger of the two by a couple months, got away with a lot more things than she should've. She didn't know why, but lying was like a second nature to her.

Bethany, the older, was the opposite. She wouldn't _let _anyone get away with anything. Teachers called her "the walking, talking polygraph machine" for she could tell the amount of truth in a statement just by the way it was said. Although, she couldn't lie herself to save her life.

One other thing each girl excelled in was physical.

Regina's father had started teaching her fencing when she was five. Now, eight years later, he always said that she'd caught on right away…you know, after three years and a _whole _lot of patience. But Regina definitely understood now. If you ever put a sword in her hand, at least expect to lose the battle, if not your life.

Bethany almost killed herself the one time she tried swordfighting. The blade seemed to just not want to be near her. But an interesting sort of gymnastics/martial arts is her specialty. Sometimes, to avoid falling flat on her face, she'll walk on her hands instead for better balance.

As you can see, the girls were….different, for lack of a better word. With some things, they were best in the country. In other things….not so much.

For awhile, Bethany and Regina weren't even friends. In fact, they absolutely _despised _each other! Bethany would always rat out Regina when she lied to a teacher. Regina would often sneak a pocket knife into school and "decorate" Bethany's gymnastics uniforms. The two girls had absolutely _nothing _in common, and frankly, they didn't want to.

Until _Leviathan _came along.

Regina and Bethany had been having a duel in the parking lot after school- Regina with a sharpish stick she found and Bethany with the Tai Kwon Do she'd, uh…. "learned" from YouTube videos.

It was when Bethany took a book out of her backpack and hit Regina on the head with it that everything changed.

"OW!" Regina exclaimed, dropping her stick weapon and holding her head painfully. Then she noticed what she'd been hit with. "Is that _Leviathan_?"

"Um… yeah," Bethany replied, sounding surprised. "It's, like, the best book ever!" The girl quickly shut off her excitement and changed her tone to an insult. "Not that _you _would've read it."

Regina was too interested to recognize the insult, or even to register that this was her archenemy she was talking to.

"Of course I've read it!" Regina exclaimed happily. "It's amazing! Alek is… dreamy," she ended with a sigh.

Bethany snorted. "Alek is lame," she scoffed. "Deryn's the main character.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Deryn's annoying," she countered. "I'd rather have a _message _lizard as a main character than read a fourth book about _her._"

Under normal circumstances, Bethany would've been angry at the insult of her favorite character, but she'd been too busy laughing at her happiness.

"Do you really think Scott Westerfeld will write a fourth book?" Bethany asked.

"Duh!" Regina replied; then they both burst out laughing.

Bethany stopped when she realized something.

"Look at us!" she exclaimed. "We're almost acting like….friends!"

Regina laughed out loud again. "We are _not _friends," she insisted.

Bethany hesitated to agree.

"We could be," she suggested timidly.

Regina didn't answer for a minute. "We've been enemies since we were seven," she whispered.

"Four long years," Bethany added.

"Maybe if you stopped ratting me out we'd be friends," Regina said.

"Maybe if you stopped lying so much," Bethany returned.

Regina rolled her eyes. "That'll happen," she muttered sarcastically.

Bethany sighed. "Right then. Never mind."

"Fine," Regina stopped her. "I promise not to lie _too _much….. in school, _if _you promise not to use your freaky karate moves on me. Deal?"

Bethany hesitated, probably making sure Regina wasn't lying; then nodded and shook hands with the other girl. "Deal."

* * *

><p><em>That <em>was two years ago.

Now, the girls are thirteen, they're the best of friends, and Scott Westerfeld _still _hasn't written a fourth book.

So, the girls have resorted to repeatedly rereading the first three.

And it was when they were reading those three that the real adventure began.

Bethany Richardson was hanging upside down from the low ceiling of her attic bedroom, reading _Leviathan _for the fifty-thrid time, her dark brown hair reaching about half way to the floor, and her large brown eyes twinkling with the fun of hanging, while Regina Scott was poking Bethany with the dull part of her fencing saber, reading _Leviathan_ for the fifty-fourth time; her lighter brown hair flowing like waves over her shoulder and her blue eyes shining.

You can tell they enjoy _Leviathan. _

Regina jumped in surprise when her best friend suddenly screamed.

"What? What's wrong?" Regina asked.

"Quick! Turn to page 51, paragraph 7!"

Regina flipped through her book and read, "'The Stormwalker's wireless antenna stretched up above the trees, the archducal flag snapping in the breeze. But Alek had no idea how to lower it. He looked around the cabin, wishing he'd paid more attention to the crewmen when learning how to pilot. But'…" Regina paused. She didn't remember this next part from the first time she'd read the book.

"Keep reading," Bethany urged.

"'But before he could figure it out,'" Regina continued slowly. "The cabin was filled with an ear-splitting BANG as a bullet flew through the half-open viewport. Suddenly, Alek screamed in pain as his vision went dark. "Young master!" he heard Klopp shout. "'Alek was confused. Why did his mechaniks master sound so scared? Why did everything hurt so much? What was that bright light in front of him? Alek heard his voice scream, although he was not conscious of it; then he suddenly heard a voice he hadn't heard in a while. "Alek!" his father called. "Listen to me, Alek; you've got to hold on! You have to stay!" "No! I want to go with you!" Alek yelled back. "No Alek!" the archduke insisted. "You have to listen to me! You have to! You to-"And then he heard nothing.'"

Regina looked up, tears in her eyes. "What the heck?" she exclaimed. "How is this…? I mean, how did this…? They can't kill off Alek! Especially not in the first book! How did it _change_?"

Bethany shrugged, which looked really weird, since she was still upside down. "At least Deryn's now officially the main character," she said.

Regina frowned, thinking. "There's no way they'd do that. If Alek died, Deryn must die too."

Bethany laughed. "There's no way they'd kill off _both _main characters!"

Regina quickly flipped through the book again. She'd prove _something. _

"Aha!" she exclaimed a few moments later. "Here we go! Page 59, paragraph 3."

She then began to read.

"'Deryn clutched the ballast cord, gritting her teeth. She might survive a wind-tossed landing herself, but the shingled rooftops and backyard fences below would shred the creature to pieces. And it would all be Deryn Sharp's fault for not warning the ground men when she'd had the chance. But she didn't have time to think about it right now, for suddenly she heard a loud BANG and smelled the horrid scent of burning hydrogen. Deryn couldn't believe it. Someone had shot the Huxley! The hydrogen inside would be ignited and both she and the beastie would burn to death! Deryn quickly scrambled to unbuckle the pilot's rig, thinking dreadfully how in seconds, she would die just as her da did; then just as she was about to jump away from the flaming Huxley, suddenly BOOM! The creature exploded in a blazing inferno and Deryn couldn't even register pain before she blacked out.' And thus began the adventures of Zippo the message lizard."

"What?" Bethany asked.

"No, I'm kidding," Regina admitted. "I added that last part. But yeah. Deryn's dead.

Regina was aware that she'd sounded much too happy reading about Deryn's demise, but Deryn annoyed her so much that she couldn't really care. Still, the look her best friend gave her was probably twice as sad as Regina's own had been at the death of her sixth fictional boyfriend.

"We've had these books for years! How are they _different_?" Bethany wondered.

"I don't know. Maybe this is all the Master's evil plan and the Doctor didn't get there in time to save them," Regina suggested.

"_Or _this is how it always was and the only reason you two read it differently was because you changed it," a voice said.

"Who the heck are you?" the girls asked calmly, Bethany looking farther upside down to get a good look at the stranger.

The mysterious woman was young, only about two or three years older than the girls themselves. Her blonde hair hung about an inch past her knees and shimmered like yellow-tinted moonlight. Her eyes ruined the picture, though. They were as black as a dark, ominous, abyss.

"I'm the pizza guy," Abyss-eyes replied sarcastically. "That'll be $14.95."

"Oh, thanks!" Regina said, pulling her wallet out of her pocket. "We've been waiting for that."

"I'm not _actually _the pizza guy, you idiot," Abyss-eyes stopped her.

"Oh," Regina sighed. "I thought you were just a really sarcastic pizza guy."

Abyss-eyes (or Abyssia, as Regina shortenedly called her) rolled her eyes and turned to Bethany.

"Is she always this thick?" Abyssia asked, indicating Regina.

"Yep; pretty much," Bethany replied.

"Hey!" Regina exclaimed, whacking Bethany with her saber and causing Bethany to fall from the (thankfully low) ceiling.

Abyssia rolled her eyes again and sighed. "You two are _ridiculous_," she muttered.

"_You're _ridiculous," Regina returned, not really understanding why she was saying it.

Abyssia sighed. "Listen, you two. I need you to focus. The books have been sabotaged. You two are going to use an…. _invention _of mine to be transported to the time and alternate universe of Mr. Westerfeld's novel and _then _one of you will be assigned to Prince Aleksandar and the other to _Mister _Sharp and you will have to stop their untimely deaths and bring them together to complete the series. Understand?"

"Dibs on Deryn!" Bethany exclaimed, at the same time as Regina's, "Dibs on Alek!"

Abyssia nodded in satisfaction.

"Grab any essentials you may need," she commanded. "We leave at sunset."

The girls ran off to grab "essentials" and Abyssia sighed.

"Your plan is useless now, Koscheri," she muttered. "With these girls, there's no way you can win.


	2. Chapter 2 Regina & Bethany

**A/N: Thank you soooo much for all the (mostly positive) reviews you guys gave me! For those of you who asked, no Bramblepool is not Brambleclaw and Leafpool. Bramblepool got it from the warrior cat name generator. Although, both Bramblepool and our friend SmartGirl are big Warriors fans. Me, not so much. Also, Bramblepool has forbidden me from giving Bethany and Regina nicknames for fear of confusing the readers, so I apologize that I have to call them Bethany and Regina all the time. Luckily, this is the last chapter where they will be referred to as Bethany and Regina and their names will be shortened by chapter three (or…at least, Regina's will….you'll see). Once again, I am so glad that you liked this story and I hope you continue to like it. Please review! If I can get to fifteen reviews (I currently have seven) I'll update quickly. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Leviathan or any random references I may make. All rights go to Scott Westerfeld and the owners of each reference.**

**Note that I forgot: Koscheri is a reference to a name for the Master (Whovians will get that) that I read in a fanfiction once. It's not supposed to be Japanese, especially because the person it's based on is Spanish. Sorry if that was confusing.**

**R&R!**

Chapter Two

"What did that strange person, or being, or…alien….thing, mean by 'grab any essentials you may _need_'?" ranted Bethany as she climbed down the stairs from her bedroom. "And isn't that kinda redundant? Aren't all essentials needed? I mean, seriously, people! Do your grammar homework!"

Next door to her house was a four-story neon orange shed (the Richardsons live well) where Bethany's vacation necessities were kept. That was where she planned to find 1914 Europeish clothes. However, when she arrived, Bethany found that the door was most stupidly, irritatingly, annoyingly locked.

"Awww, stupid modern security!" she complained.

Bethany looked up and saw that her mother had left the second floor winter-only room's window open. So she turned around and in 30 seconds flat, she had scaled the tall oak tree in the front yard and leapt through the open window, just barely landing on the floor without cracking her head open.

Looking around the bright blue room, Bethany saw a roll of duct tape, her spare iPod, and an Arabian dagger that just happened to be lying around. Don't question it.

After she had grabbed all of the objects, she sprinted into the Thanksgiving room on the third floor and snatched up her backpack that was always kept packed with clothes for no particular reason. As she stuffed the duct tape, iPod, and dagger into the backpack, she looked around one last time at the only home she had ever known, that…..wasn't…. her….actual….home….cause…you know, it was a…. a shed…..Anyway, Bethany then slung the pack over her shoulder and just like that, she left.

As Bethany ran back to her house, she thought about how fun it would be to live with Deryn, until she realized that she was going the wrong way and stopped so suddenly that she tripped over her neighbor's calico cat.

She muttered a quick apology to the cat, got up hoping nobody had seen her talking to a cat, and continued running (the opposite way).

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Regina was at her own house packing. She filled an old suitcase with not-too-modern clothes, mainly dresses; the most sentimental of her possessions; and her copy of Leviathan, of course.<p>

Then, as she began daydreaming of the wonderful adventures she would soon be having with Alek (a.k.a her fictional boyfriend #6), she realized something.

When Regina arrived back in Bethany's attic bedroom, her best friend was having a strange argument with Abyssia.  
>"It's a great name!" Bethany was saying.<p>

Abyssia rolled her eyes. "It's a boy's name," she returned.

"So? People called Regina 'Reggie' all the time in kindergarten," Bethany protested.

"Well that was a nickname for her real name," Abyssia pointed out. "_Joe _is just random!"

"Well how do I know your name isn't Josephina?" Bethany asked.

Abyssia sighed. "Trust me; that's _not _my name."

"What _is _your name, then?" Bethany questioned as Regina watched from the doorway.

"In the closest translation to English," Abyssia began; then emitted a strange mix of squeaks and clicks.

Bethany blinked. "I think I'll stick with Joe," she decided.

Abyssia sighed; then finally noticed Regina standing there.

"I'm sorry; did you want something?" Abyssia asked.

"I don't speak German," Regina announced.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Bethany muttered.

Regina ignored her. "Alek and his servant people speak German," she rephrased. "Me no can do that."

Abyssia considered this. "I have a way that I can implant the language in your brain, but it might be a bit painful."

Regina really didn't like pain (seriously; she had a severe case of painophobia) but she also really wanted to speak Alek's language.

"How much pain are we talking about?" she asked.

Abyssia shrugged. "Your head would probably hurt the most- maybe more than a migraine, but less than a lobotomy," she replied nonchalantly.

Regina gulped. She glanced at Bethany, who gave a slight nod.

Regina took a deep breath. "Do it," she commanded.

Abyssia reached deep into the pockets of her cloak and pulled out what looked like a mini remote control. She held it out in front of her dramatically and Regina closed her eyes in fear.

But nothing happened.

Regina cautiously opened one eye.

"That's it," Abyssia told her.

Regina blinked. "You said it would hurt!" she exclaimed.

Abyssia shrugged. "So, I over-exaggerated. It worked, didn't it?"

Regina wasn't sure if it _had _worked. She didn't feel any different.

"How do you know it worked?" she asked.

"You're speaking German right now," Abyssia replied.

"Oh. Really?" Regina said. "Cool! Can you do it with other languages too?"

Abyssia took out the remote again and pushed the button repeatedly.

10 minutes later, Regina Scott was fluent in German, Italian, French, and English, and knew certain words and phrases in Russian, Japanese, Latin, and Spanish. But still a problem occurred to her.

"They won't know us, will they?" she asked.

"Already taken care of," Abyssia promised. "Alek and Deryn's minds will be altered. They'll believe whatever you want them to believe. Just make up dramatic back-stories for yourselves and you're good. However, there is a default to the mind-altering process. Their opinions of you are completely your own. Since your personalities will be exactly the same as they are now, they may despise you, for all you know. It's your job to get them past that because they need you.

"Now, you'll need new names," Abyssia concluded. "Something less modern."

"I'll be Kara!" Regina called out. "I enjoy that name." **(A/N: quite true. Love that name.)**

"20th century enough," Abyssia commented. "And your last name?"

Regina flipped her hair back over her shoulder dramatically. "Well, I'd be Kara of Hohenburg, wouldn't I?"

Abyssia shook her head. "It doesn't matter _what _back-story you make for yourself," she told Regina. "You are _not_ a noble."

"Darn it," Regina muttered. "Fine. I'll be Kara… Venachtechlan. I don't know why. It just sounds cool and timelordy. And actually kinda German, when you think about it."

Abyssia sighed and turned to Bethany. "And you?" she prompted.

Bethany seemed to be thinking hard about it.

"I don't know," she muttered. "I want a really cool name. Something like, 'Pandemonium', or…. 'Crazy Sally,' or 'Billy Bob Joe' or something."

"You think about it," Abyssia instructed. "Now, you two are going to be flashed three times using my…device, okay?"

The girls nodded.

"The first flash will be time-travel. It will take you to this exact spot on June 28, 1914; the night the archduke and his wife were killed. The second flash will alternate the universe so the Great War becomes Clankers against Darwinists instead of just Germany against everybody else. And the third flash will separate the two of you- one going to Austria-Hungary and the other to England. You won't see each other for probably at least two months. Are you sure you still want to do this?"

The girls hesitated this time, but nodded again.

"Alright." Abyssia pulled out another remote from her pocket.

Regina grabbed her suitcase and Bethany her backpack and the two held hands.

Abyssia pushed the button and with a flash of blinding light, Bethany's bedroom disappeared.

* * *

><p>When Regina opened her eyes, she was standing in a graveyard, with Bethany next to her, muttering names.<p>

"Let's see, I could be Susan, or Mary, or Elizabeth, or the Butterfly, or Rainbow Dash, or-"

"You do know we could cause the apocalypse doing this, right?" Regina interrupted.

"That's it!" Bethany exclaimed. "That'll be my name! Apocalypsia Pandemonium! Gee, thanks Regina; you're the best!"

Regina opened her mouth to comment but suddenly another blinding light flashed and the world altered again.

"I guess we're leaving soon, huh?" Regina asked as the bustling world of 1914 Darwinist/Clanker America rushed past them.

Bethany nodded. "I guess so."

Regina sighed. She still thought this would be fun, but really….she wouldn't see her best friend for months and she might not see her family again.

Bethany held her arms out. "We'll see each other soon," she promised.

Regina smiled. "Of course we will," she agreed.

The two friends stepped in for a hug, but just as they made contact, a third blinding light flashed and the next thing they knew, Kara was seeing the dark gray depressing hallways of the Hapsburg Castle and Apocalypsia was seeing the insides of an omnibus where sat Jaspert and Deryn Sharp.

**A/N: please tell me if the name-changing at the end was in any way confusing. **

**Please review! I'll update as soon as I can!**


	3. Chapter 3 Alek & Kara

**A/N: Hola again everybody! I am seriously amazed at how many people love this story and it's making me veeeeeery happy! Now technically I said I'd update when I had fifteen reviews….and I have twelve….but I couldn't wait any longer because chapter three was already written and I reeeeally wanted to update. So, here you go!**

**Now, a note about this chapter that YOU MUST READ! During this chapter Kara/Regina is in the world of Leviathan. Basically Leviathan is being rewritten with her in it. I've seen this done many times with other series and they were terrible. But Bramblepool and I take extreme pride in making these chapters the funniest things you will ever read. **

**Also, from this chapter to the end of the fic (and possibly its sequels-hint hint), Regina and Bethany will _always _be referred to as Kara and Apocalypsia _unless _one is thinking about the other. For example, if Kara is thinking about how Bethany is her best friend, or Apocalypsia is thinking about how Regina's her best friend. Get it? Hopefully. Good. **

**Now, I also suggest you read these chapters word for word despite how amazingly close they are to the books. Trust me- reading it all makes it better.**

**Okay, I think that's all. Please review!**

**Disclaimer: Since I copied straight from the book here, I cannot stress this enough: Bramblepool and I do _not _own Leviathan. All rights go to Scott Westerfeld. **

**Copyright: However, we own the original characters and anything else we make up. **

**Last thing (sorry I'm forgetful): I apologize if the spacing is weird. I wrote it just like the book, so the paragraphs are all novelly instead of fanfictiony. If it gets annoying and/or confusing, I'll alter it for chapter four. **

Chapter Three

The Austrian horses glinted in the moonlight, their riders standing tall in the saddle, swords raised. Behind them two ranks of diesel-powered walking machines stood ready to fire, cannon aimed over the heads of the cavalry. A zeppelin scouted no-man's-land at the center of the battlefield, its metal skin sparkling.

The French and British infantry crouched behind their fortifications- a letter opener, an ink jar, and a line of fountain pens- knowing they stood no chance against the might of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. But a row of Darwinist monsters loomed behind them, ready to devour any who dared retreat.

The attack had almost begun when Prince Aleksandar thought he saw a bright light coming from outside his door….

He took a guilty step toward his bed- then froze in place, listening hard. Trees stirred in a soft breeze outside, but otherwise the night was silent. Mother and Father were in Sarajevo, after all. The servants wouldn't dare disturb his sleep. That just left Kara… but hopefully she knew not to disturb him either.

Alek turned back to his desk and began to move the cavalry forward, grinning as the battle neared its climax. The Austrian walkers had completed their bombardment, and it was time for the tin horses to finish off the woefully outnumbered French. It had taken all night to set up the attack, using an imperial tactics manual borrowed from Father's study.

It seemed only fair that Alek have some fun while his parents were off watching military maneuvers. He'd begged to be taken along (as had Kara, although she didn't really have a reason to go), to see the mustered ranks of soldiers striding past in real life, to feel the rumble of massed fighting machines through the soles of his boots.

It was Mother, of course, who had forbidden it (both for him and for Kara) - his studies were more important than "parades" as she called them. She didn't understand that military exercises had more to teach him than musty old tutors and their books. One day soon Alek might be piloting one of those machines.

War was coming, after all. Everybody said so.

The last tin cavalry had just crashed into the French lines when Alek heard a sound coming from his door. He froze and glanced up, but the door was closed and the night still silent. Alek reached down to his tin figures and-

"Hi hi!"

Alek jumped practically a full meter in the air. **(A/N: for the record I am American and I have absolutely no idea how high that is. For other Americans out there, I imagine it about five feet…ish) **Turning around, he glared at Kara who stood grinning behind his desk.

"What are you doing here?" he growled at her.

Kara continued grinning. "Making you scream like a girl; what does it look like?" she replied.

Alek clenched his fists, seething. Kara had a hard life, he knew. She was an orphan that Alek's father had taken in to be a companion for Alek when he was little. He sometimes caught her crying alone in her room, probably remembering her parents. Alek felt sorry for her, but as they got older, she just became _infuriating. _

Kara would never leave Alek alone, either. It was almost as if she followed him everywhere _just _to annoy him. Plus, she was so _different _from everyone else. She had a weird way of talking and Alek sometimes wondered if she was originally from Darwinist upbringing, even though her German was impeccable.

"Get out of my room," Alek commanded weakly, Kara's presence making him tired.

"I can't," Kara replied. "Volger and Klopp will be here any minute."

That's when Alek heard the soft sound from outside his door: jingling, like a ring of keys.

Alek turned, peering at the gap beneath his bed chamber's double doors. Shadows shifted along the sliver of moonlight, and he heard the hiss of whispers.

Kara was right, for once. Someone was right outside.

Silent in bare feet, he swiftly crossed the cold marble floor, sliding into bed just as the door creaked open. Alek narrowed his eyes to a slit, wondering which of the servants was checking on him.

Meanwhile, Kara had plopped herself into Alek's chair, clomped her feet onto his desk, and knocked half of his army onto the floor, causing an involuntary whimper to escape his mouth.

Moonlight spilled into the room, making the tin soldiers left on his desk glitter. Someone slipped inside, graceful and dead silent. The figure paused, stared at Alek for a moment, then turned and jumped when he saw Kara.

"What are you doing in Prince Alek's bedchamber?" Alek heard a familiar voice ask.

"Playing with his war dolls; what does it look like?" Kara replied.

_They are not _dolls, Alek thought grimly, clenching his fists angrily despite his fear. _They are _action _figures._

The stranger made a growling noise in the back of his throat.

"Get your feet down, girl," he whispered angrily.

After a short hesitation, Kara clomped her boots off the desk and the stranger crept towards Alek's dresser. Alek heard the wooden rasp of a drawer sliding open.

His heart raced. None of the servants would dare steal from him!

But what if the intruder were something worse than a thief? Kara had mentioned Volger, his fencing tutor, but what if she was wrong? What if she'd acted calm in front of the stranger, but was actually scared of being attacked? His father's warnings echoed in his ears….

_You have had enemies from the day you were born._

A bell cord hung next to his bed, but his parents' rooms were empty. With Father and his bodyguard in Sarajevo, the closest sentries were quartered at the other end of the trophy hall, fifty meters away. **(A/N: that one's from the actual book but again I have no idea how far that is. I assume it's a lot)**

Alek slid one hand under his pillow, until his fingers touched the cold steel of his hunting knife. He lay there, holding his breath, grasping the handle tightly, repeating to himself his father's other watchword.

_Surprise is more valuable than strength. _Even if the intruder attacked him, he could hopefully at least get Kara out safely.

Another figure came through the door then, boots clomping, a piloting jacket's metal clips jingling like keys on a ring. The figure tromped straight toward his bed, ignoring Kara.

"Young master! Wake up!"

Alek let go of the knife, expelling a sigh of relief. Kara had been right after all. It was just old Otto Klopp, his master of mechaniks.

The first figure, probably Volger as Kara had predicted, began rifling through the dresser, pulling at clothes.

"The young prince has been awake all along," Wildcount Volger's low voice said, recognizable now that Alek really listened. "A bit of advice, Your Highness? When pretending to be asleep, it is advisable not to hold one's breath."

Alek sat up and scowled. His fencing master had an annoying knack for seeing through deception.

"It is also advisable not to have your companion guard you while you 'sleep,'" Volger continued.

"Yeah, Alek," Kara chided. "You shouldn't have had me guard you."

Alek glared at the girl; then turned to his teachers.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"You're to come with us, young master," Otto mumbled, studying the marble floor. "The archduke's orders."

"My father? He's back already?"

"If he were back," Kara muttered. "These hooligans wouldn't have interrupted me while I was playing with your war dolls."

"They are not dolls," Alek growled.

"Your father left instructions," Count Volger said with the same infuriating tone he used during fencing lessons. "And don't worry," he added, gesturing to Kara. "She's not coming."

"Why can't I come?" Kara complained. "I wanna come! Wait, where am I not coming?"

Volger sighed and tossed a pair of Alek's trousers and a piloting jacket onto the bed.

Alek stared at him and Klopp, half outraged and half confused.

"Like young Mozart," Otto said softly. "In the archduke's stories."

Alek frowned, remembering Father's favorite tales about the great composer's upbringing. Supposedly Mozart's tutors would wake him in the middle of the night, when his mind was raw and defenseless, and thrust musical lessons upon him. It all sounded rather disrespectful to Alek.

"There's only one difference," Kara commented. "Mozart was a genius. In case you haven't noticed, Alek's kind of an idiot."

They all stared at her.

"It's a well-known fact," Kara continued. "He's just really slow to get things! Plus, he's kinda useless. And he only has one friend. And even then, not really."

"I thought we weren't gonna tell him you weren't really his friend," Volger muttered sarcastically.

Alek stared at his tutor and "friend", overly insulted. Did no one like him at all?

Angrily, he reached for the trousers. "You're going to make me compose a _fugue_?" he asked, referring to the mention of Mozart.

"An amusing thought," Count Volger said. "But please make haste."

"We have a walker waiting behind the stables, young master." Otto's worried face made an attempt at a smile. "You're to take the helm."

"A walker?" Alek's eyes widened. Piloting was one part of his studies he'd gladly get out of bed for. He slipped quickly into the clothes (while Kara awkwardly turned away).

"Yes, your first night lesson!" Otto said, handing Alek his boots.

Alek pulled them on and stood, then fetched his favorite pilot's gloves from the dresser, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

"Quietly now." Count Volger stood by the chamber doors. He cracked them and peered out into the hall.

"We're to sneak out, Your Highness!" Otto whispered. "Good fun, this lesson! Just like young Mozart!"

As Alek and Klopp left the room, Alek heard Volger say to Kara, "Stay _here, _girl."

Turning around, Alek saw Kara lean against his desk and wave a hand impatiently at Volger.

"No need to worry about me, Count," she assured him. "I'll be fine by myself." Contradicting her point, Kara's hand slipped from the desk and she fell against it, knocking it over with a loud CRASH.

Shaking his head, Alek left the room with his tutors and hoped that Kara's failures hadn't woken the whole castle.

So much for sneaking out.

* * *

><p>Kara stood, grinning. She walked to Alek's chamber doors as he and his tutors crept down the trophy hall. This was so much fun! She was really <em>living Leviathan!<em> She was living with Alek! Alek looked at her the same way he looks at Deryn in the later books! Okay, maybe his looks for Kara had a _little _more annoyance in them, but there was love there too! Deep, deep, _deep _down inside.

Kara sat down on Alek's bed, thinking about the events that were about to take place. When she had arrived at the archduke's castle, it had been right at the beginning of _Leviathan. _Now, Alek, Volger, and Klopp would be walking towards the stables to the Stormwalker. Alek would be thinking about how depressed he was that he would never be heir to anything. He'd get really annoyed at Volger for not recognizing his royalness. And then the three of them would go into the walker and escape Austria-Hungary and get stalked by Germans and then… Alek would…die…

Suddenly, Kara jumped up from the bed. She needed to be in that Stormwalker! If she wasn't, Alek would die! And if Alek died, she would have _five _fictional boyfriends! _Five!_

Kara quickly grabbed Alek's war dolls (she knew he'd miss them) and rushed out the door to the stables, making a plan in her head. How could she save Alek without him knowing she was in the walker?

Her mind busy making a plan and Kara having always had a terrible sense of direction, she got distracted and slammed into a wall.

By the time she'd woken up from her wall-induced nap and ran to the stables, the Stormwalker was gone.

**A/N: Dun. Dun. Duuuuuuun. Okay, not really, but still. I hope you liked the first "Alek" chapter, as I call them. Next chapter will be with Deryn and Apocalypsia, but in the actual book, it's the second Deryn chapter, so we skip the whole girl-boy explanation thing. Hopefully that won't be confusing. Pretty please review!**

**Also, random question for you all: Deryn and Alek's couple name- Derek or Dalek?**


	4. Chapter 4 Deryn & Apocalypsia

**A/N: Hola again! Thanks so much for all the reviews, I'm hoping we can get to at least 20 with this chapter? **

**Here's the first Deryn/Apocalypsia chap for you. I apologize for any grammar mistakes (Bramblepool isn't very good at that kinda stuff- no offense to her- and I tried to fix them all, but I might've missed some). Remember that this chapter is technically the _second_Deryn chapter in _Leviathan_, so Deryn has prepared for her boyishness and is now on her way to the Service. **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter and pretty please review!**

**Disclaimer: Bramblepool and I do not own Leviathan. All rights go to Scott Westerfeld. **

**Copyright: We own our OC's.**

The London omnibuses were much fancier than those back in Scotland; faster, too. The one that took them to the airship field at Wormwood Scrubs was drawn by a hippoesque the breadth of two oxen across the shoulders. The huge, powerful beast had them nearing the scrubs before dawn had broken.

Deryn stared out the window, watching the movements of the treetops. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of white, hot light, so intense that it felt like Deryn's eyes had been burned into wrinkled, ashen squicks. Just as suddenly as the light came it was gone. Deryn then began to frantically rub at her eyes, hoping the complete darkness around wasn't permanent.

"What was that?" Deryn wondered aloud.

Because the darkness had finally subsided to splotches, Deryn was able to make out a lean, feline-like, figure swinging into the bus through the partly open window in front of her. As her vision cleared, Deryn realized that the figure was a girl. A girl with long, dark hair. A girl who Deryn knew.

"Apocalypsia! What in the name of everything in the universe that makes even the slightest sense are you doing here!"

A strange smile spread across her irritatingly familiar face. Hearing no answer come from the girl Deryn repeated the question.

"Ummm," said Apocalypsia unsurely. "Uhh, your mother sent me to accompany you."

Deryn heard a series of snickers rise up from the group of boys sitting on the front of the bus. She felt heat rise up to her cheeks. Stupid, barking boys.

Apocalypsia plopped down on the empty bench in front Deryn and Jaspert. Deryn could have sworn she heard the girl mutter under her breath "Suuuuuurrrrrrre. Let's go with that story..."

"So," said Deryn looking around at the surrounding bus-goers, "my mother sent you to accompany me?"

"Uhhhh yeah. Right after you left for London she sent me after you to make sure you didn't get hurt," Apocalypsia replied in a voice that sort of made it sound like she had absolutely no idea what she was saying.

"Why wouldn't she tell me?" Jaspert wondered out loud.  
>Apocalypsia didn't reply. She seemed too absorbed in taking in every single detail of her surroundings. Why she was acting so strangely (well more strange than usual) Deryn had no idea.<p>

"I have Jaspert to keep me out of trouble so you really don't have to stay. You can just leave. Seriously," Deryn said hoping that Apocalypsia got her hinting to go home before Deryn went barking mad.

"No, I'll stay here." stated Apocalypsia with a sense of finality.

Deryn sighed. This single thirteen-year-old girl had been the bane of her existence for the past six months. Deryn wasn't sure why the girl irritated her so much; she just did. Now Apocalypsia just sat there acting like every other normal person just sitting on the bus. Deryn almost started laughing out loud at the thought of Apocalypsia being considered in any way normal.

The omnibus's next stop was at the Scrubs famous prison. Most of the passengers disembarked there, women carrying lunch pails and gifts for the men inside. The sight of the barred windows made Deryn's stomach churn. How much trouble would Jaspert be in if this ruse went wrong? Enough to lose his position in the Service? To send him to jail even?

It just wasn't fair, her being born a girl! She knew more about aeronautics than Da had ever been able to cram into Jaspert's attic. On top of which, she had a better head for heights than her brother.

The worst thing was, if the boffins didn't let her into the Service, she'd be spending the night in her horrible rented room (most likely with Apocalypsia, which does not improve the situation), and headed back to Scotland by tomorrow.  
>Her mother and the aunties were waiting there, certain that this mad scheme wouldn't work, ready to stuff her back into skirts and corsets. They had probably sent Apocalypsia to be sure that Deryn would return immediately. If that happened, there would be no more dreams of flying, no more studying, and no more swearing!<p>

And the last of her inheritance wasted on this trip to London.

She glared at the three boys in the front of the bus, the ones that had snickered at her earlier, who were jostling each other and giggling nervously as the proving grounds grew closer, happy as a box of birds. The tallest barely came up to Deryn's shoulder. They couldn't be so much stronger, and she didn't credit that they were as brave. So why should they be allowed into the King's Service and not her?

Deryn Sharp gritted her teeth, resolving that no one would see through her disguise.

There couldn't be that much trick to it, being a stupid boy.

...

The line of recruits on the ascension field weren't impressive. Most looked barely sixteen, sent off by their families to find fortune and advancement. A few older boys were mixed in with the others, probably middies coming over from the navy.

Looking at their anxious faces, Deryn was glad to have had a father who'd taken her up in hot-air balloons. She'd seen the ground from on high plenty of times. But that didn't keep her nerves from playing up. She almost reached for Jaspert's hand until she realized how _that_ would look. 

"All right _Dylan_," he said quietly as they neared the desk. "Just remember what I told you." 

Deryn snorted. Last night Jaspert had demonstrated how a proper boy checked his fingernails- by looking at his palm, fingers bent, whereas girls looked at the back of their hands, fingers splayed. 

However, Apocalypsia was currently disproving Jaspert's statement, by walking beside Jaspert and her, inspecting her fingernails, with her palm facing up and her fingers bent. Somehow, Apocalypsia managed not too trip and fall on the tufts of grass, outcropping rocks, and rabbit holes that were barking everywhere. So apparently normal girls do not look at the backs of their hands fingers splayed (then again, Apocalypsia couldn't really be considered normal in any way, shape, or form). 

"Jaspert," Deryn said. "If they ask me to do my nails, don't you think the jig's up already?" 

He didn't laugh (even though Apocalypsia was doubled over laughing rather hysterically). "Just don't draw attention to yourself, right?" he said. 

Deryn said nothing more, following him to the long table set up outside a white hangar tent. Three officers sat behind it, accepting letters of introduction from the recruits. 

"Ah, Coxswain Sharp!" one said. He wore the uniform of a flight lieutenant, but also the curve-brimmed bowler hat of a boffin. 

Jaspert saluted him smartly. "Lieutenant Cook, may I present my cousin, Dylan." 

When Cook held out his hand to Deryn, she felt the moment of British pride that boffins always gave her. Here was a man who reached into the very chains of life and worked them to suit his purposes. 

She gave his hand the firmest shake she could. "Nice to meet you, sir." 

"Always a pleasure to meet a Sharp fellow," the boffin said, then chuckled at his own joke. "Your cousin speaks highly of your comprehension of aeronautics and aerology." 

Deryn cleared her throat using the soft, low voice she'd been practicing for weeks. "My da- that is, my uncle- taught us all about ballooning." 

"Ah, yes, a brave man." He shook his head. "A tragedy he isn't here to see the triumphs of living flight." 

"Aye, he would have loved it, sir." Da had only gone up in hot air balloons, not hydrogen breathers like the Service used. 

"Now who would this be?" The boffin asked, finally spotting Apocalypsia. 

"That's Apocalypsia," Responded Jaspert. "She's an orphan that the Sharp family took in when she was a baby." 

"De—I mean Dylan's mother sent me after them to keep them safe," added Apocalypsia. "I'll be heading back to Glasgow by tonight. Mrs. Sharp just wanted to make sure that Jaspert and De- Dylan wouldn't get hurt." 

"Well then," the lieutenant said, seeming a squick more than slightly confused. 

Jaspert gave Deryn a nudge, and she remembered the letter of recommendation. She pulled it from her jacket and offered it to flight Lieutenant Cook. He pretended to study it, which was silly because he'd written it himself as a favor to Jaspert, but even the boffins had to follow royal navy form. 

"This seems to be in order." His eyes drifted up from the letter and traveled across Deryn's borrowed outfit, looking troubled by what he saw. 

She stood stiffly under his gaze, wondering what had gone wrong. Was it her hair? Her voice? Had the handshake somehow gone amiss? 

Seeing the panic concealed on Deryn's face, Apocalypsia began to laugh hard. Luckily for Deryn, the girl managed to just barely stifle the sound of her laughter . 

"Bit spindly aren't you?" the boffin finally said. 

"Aye sir. I suppose so." 

His face broke into a smile. "Well, we had to fatten up your cousin too. Mr. Sharp, Please join the line!"

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5 Deryn & Apocalypsia

**A/N: HOLA! Here's the next chapter. It's another Deryn/Apocalypsia chap, but the next will be Alek. Hope you like it! R&R!**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Scott Westerfeld.**

Chapter Five

The sun was just starting to creep above the tree line when the proper military men arrived. They rolled across the field in their all terrain carriage drawn by two lupine tigeresques, pulling up smartly before the line of recruits. The beast's muscles bulged under the leather straps of the carriage rig, and when one shook itself like a monstrous house cat, sweat flew in all directions.

"Well that's pleasant." Apocalypsia muttered sarcastically from her position beside Deryn.

In the corners of her vision Deryn saw the boys around her stiffen. Then the carriage driver set the tigers growling with a snap of his whip, and a nervous murmur traveled down the line.

A man in a flight captain's uniform stood in the open carriage, a riding crop under one arm. "Gentlemen, welcome to Wormwood Scrubs. I trust none of you is frightened by the fabrications of natural philosophy?"

For about 5 seconds, nobody answered. However, after about 6 seconds, Apocalypsia raised her hand in the air and said to the man, "Sir, personally, I think that those tigeresques are rather adorable."

For a moment the man seemed unsure of what to respond. Deryn mentally smacked herself in the forehead and groaned. For once, why couldn't Apocalypsia at least _pretend_ to be normal? Why?

Then the man replied to Apocalypsia, "Well, I'm glad you think so."

After that, when no one stepped forward to admit their fear, the flight captain said, "Excellent. Then you won't mind a closer look."

The driver's whip snapped again, and the carriage rumbled across the broken field, the nearest passing within arm-reach of the volunteers. The snarling beasts were too much for three boys at the end of the line. They broke ranks and ran shrieking toward the open gates of the scrubs.

"Wimps." Apocalypsia muttered in disgust

Deryn managed to keep her eyes focused directly ahead as the tigers passed, but a whiff of them—a mix of wet dog and raw meat—sent shivers down her spine.

"Not bad, not bad," the flight captain said. "I'm glad to see so few of our young men—and women—have succumbed to common superstition."

Deryn snorted. A few people—Monkey Luddites, they were called—were afraid of Darwinist beasties on principle, they thought that crossbreeding natural creatures was more blasphemy than science, even if fabs had been the backbone of the British empire for the last fifty years.

She wondered for a moment if these tigers were the secret test Jaspert had warned her about, and smirked. If so it had been pure dawdle.

"But your nerves of steel may not last the day, gentlemen," the flight captain said. "Before moving on we'd like to discover if you have a head for heights. Coxswain?"

"About-face!" shouted an airman. With a muddled bit of shuffling the line of boys turned itself about to face the hangar tent. Deryn saw that Jaspert was still here, hanging off to one side with the boffins. They were all wearing clart-snaffling grins.

The hangars tent flaps split apart, and Deryn's jaw dropped open…

An airbeast was inside: a Huxley ascender. It's tentacles in the grips of a dozen ground men. The beast pulsed and trembled as they drew it gently out, setting its translucent gasbag shimmering with the red light of the rising sun.

"Sweet." Muttered Apocalypsia. Deryn had no idea what that meant but she decided to ignore it.

Then the boy on the other side of her gasped, "A medusa."

Deryn nodded. This was the first hydrogen breather ever fabricated, nothing like the living airships of today, with their gondolas, engines, and observation decks.

The Huxley was made from the life chains of medusa—jellyfish and other venomous sea creatures—and was practically as dangerous. One wrong puff of wind could spook a Huxley, sending it diving for the ground like a bird headed for worms. The creature's fishy guts could survive almost any fall, but their human passengers were rarely so lucky.

Then Deryn saw a pilots rig hanging from the airbeast, and her eyes widened still farther.  
>Was this the test of "air sense" Jaspert had been hinting at? And he'd let her believe he'd only been kidding! That bum-rag.<p>

"You lucky gents will be taking a ride this morning," the flight captain said from behind them. "Not a long one: only up a thousand feet or so then back down… after ten minutes of lofting in the air. Believe me, you'll see London as you never have before!"

Deryn felt a smile creeping across her lips. Finally a chance to see the world from on high again, just like in one of Da's balloons.

"To those of you who'd prefer not to," the flight captain finished, "we bid fond farewells."

"Any of you little blighters want out?" shouted the coxswain from the end of the line. "Then get out now! Otherwise it's skyward with you!"

"Humph. I find the term 'little blighter' a tad bit insulting," muttered Apocalypsia while another dozen boys departed.

They didn't run screaming this time, just slunk toward the gate in a huddled pack, a few pale and frightened faces glancing back at the pulsing hovering monster. Deryn realized with pride that almost half of the volunteers were gone.

"Right, then." The flight captain stepped in front of the line. "Now that the Monkey Luddites have been cleared out, who'd like to go first?"

Without hesitation, without a thought about what Jaspert had said about not drawing attention, and with the last squick of nerves in her belly gone, Deryn Sharp took one step forward.

"Please, sir. I'd like to fly."

* * *

><p>Apocalypsia Pandemonium watched as Deryn was buckled into the pilots rig by one of the men. For the hundredth time she was struck by the ultimate epicness of the situation. She was living Leviathan! Apocalypsia saw the coxswain lean over Deryn and whisper something to her. Deryn appeared to be rather nervous.<p>

The man handed her a yellow roll of cloth. Apocalypsia recalled that it was the panic flag that Deryn stupidly decided not to use. Then Apocalypsia realized that she needed to be with Deryn. If she was not with Deryn, Deryn would die. If Deryn died Apocalypsia would get sent home. If Apocalypsia got sent home, she would have to go to school tomorrow. And that was not happening. (Partly because she hadn't done her homework yet.)

But, then Deryn began ascending. Apocalypsia sighed in frustration, and then looked around. She noticed a glinting from behind the hanger tent. _I don't remember that from the book. What is it?_ Wondered Apocalypsia.

To get a closer a closer look Apocalypsia extracted herself from the line of boys. The recruits were just standing there like a herd of lazy meeses **(A/N: ****btw ****that**** is ****supposed ****to ****be ****a ****miss-spelled ****pluralization ****of ****moose ****on ****purpose)**, staring in open mouthed awe at Deryn in her Huxley. After moving a few steps, Apocalypsia saw that the glinting came from another Huxley that was held down by a single huge man. Apocalypsia quickened her pace as she headed for the Huxley, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across her face.

As she walked, she formulated a plan. However, because her mind was busy with a plan, she did not notice the massive rock that lay in her path. Then Apocalypsia managed to trip on the rock, and roll head over heels into a massive mud puddle, which caused a rather magnificent splash. Yes, she's just that skilled.

Standing up, Apocalypsia shook herself much like a dog does after falling in a vat of liquid.

"Okay. Note to self: Do not think while simultaneously walking." Apocalypsia muttered to herself.

When she reached the man she said in her most innocent voice, "Excuse me, sir?"

"Ye—" the man didn't even get to finish his word, because by that time Apocalypsia's fist met his face. He then fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, out cold.

Apocalypsia grabbed the Huxley's tentacle before it could drift away. She then leaned over and grabbed a long piece of rope that was laying, discarded, on the ground. She ran over to the Huxley's pilots rig and lightly sat down on the seat. Apocalypsia pulled her lethal Arabian dagger from her backpack and began sawing as hard as she could at the thick Huxley cable that connected her to the ground.

Apocalypsia looked up from her work for a moment, only to see that some of the men were running towards her. Apocalypsia sawed even harder. Then the Huxley caught an updraft and began to rise. When she was about fifty yards up the men began to reel her in. The cable was almost cut through so Apocalypsia gave it one last good hack, and it broke, sending her shooting up in the air.

Then realizing that nothing held her to the rig except for her own balance, she attempted to strap herself in. when she was done, (the attempt was pretty much a failure) she unwound some of the rope and tied it to the rig. The Huxley drifted lazily on updrafts, until she was just a few yards below Deryn. She then shouted up, "Yo! _Mr._ Sharp!"

Deryn looked down. The look of shock, confusion, annoyance and fright on her face made her look much like Regina—well Kara now—when Apocalypsia snuck up and flying tackled her at school.

"Wha—whe—how—agggggggghhhhhh!" shrieked Deryn.

"Asphrelumba!" greeted Apocalypsia. **(A/N:****Bramblepool ****understands ****that. ****I ****don****'****t. ****It****'****s ****apparently ****a ****reference ****to ****something)**

Deryn fell into an open mouthed silence.

"Ummmmmmm… Deryn?" asked Apocalypsia. "Are you ok?"

Deryn didn't respond, just stared at her with a gaping mouth. "Yo Deryn! Earth to Deryn! Deryn to Earth! Barking spiders! Come on! Wake up already!" Shrieked Apocalypsia, waving her arms back and forth.

Then Apocalypsia took one of the rocks she had taken from home, and hurled it at Deryn's head (don't question her methods). However, because Apocalypsia cannot do anything, the rock fell short, and only managed to nudge her foot. Still, that was enough to get Deryn's brain functioning.

"How did you get here?" asked Deryn.

"Magic." Replied Apocalypsia in a matter-of-fact tone.

"No, seriously. How did you get here?" insisted Deryn.

"It's best not to question my methods." Replied Apocalypsia, as she leaned forward to stare at the ground below.

"Fine then." Said Deryn crossing her arms. "If you won't tell me then I don't want to know."

"Okay." Said Apocalypsia shrugging her shoulders.

After a moment's pause Deryn asked again "Please?"

"No." replied Apocalypsia firmly.

"Hmph."

After a minute or two of slightly awkward silence Apocalypsia asked hopefully, "Ummmmm, Deryn, do you think you could maybe, possibly tie this rope to your harness?" She held up the rope. "Yeah, um, I'm just sort of, you know, not attached to the ground or anything, and I would really prefer not to just drift around hanging off of a Huxley for the rest of my existence…"

"Oh fine then. Toss the rope over." Deryn _hmphed_.

"Yayz! I'm not gonna die! Well you know not in the super near future… but anyway, Yayz!" cheered Apocalypsia as she tossed the rope which she had earlier tied to her own harness at Deryn's face.

Once she was secure, Apocalypsia pulled yet another rock out of her backpack, dropped it and watched it as it fell. **(A/N:****I ****just ****realized ****that ****that ****was ****similar ****to ****when ****Bovril ****dropped ****a ****strawberry ****stem -****Bramblepool)** When it finally hit the ground, Apocalypsia exclaimed loudly to Deryn, "Whoa! That rock I dropped made a crater!"

Deryn looked down, and when she a saw a distinctly crater-less ground she yelled indignantly, "Hey! You lied! There's no crater!"

_Seriously?_ Thought Apocalypsia. "You are so gullible!"

"Yeah? Well you're a ninny!" retorted Deryn.

Then Apocalypsia pulled out her final rock, took careful aim, and hurled it at Deryn. The rock hit its intended target, Deryn's forehead, and she was out cold.

**A/N: Don't judge. Hope you like the chapter. Next one will be super extra-long and will go back to Alek and me, uh…I mean….Kara…..right…..**

**Anyway, Review!**


	6. Chapter 6 Alek & Kara

**A/N: Hi people! Here's the next chapter. It's really long. Hope you like it. I own nothing. Please review!**

Chapter Six

When Prince Aleksandar awoke, his tongue was coated with sickly sweetness. The awful taste overpowered his other senses; he couldn't see or hear or even think, as if his brain were drenched in sugary brine.

Gradually, his head cleared- he smelled kerosene and heard tree branches thrashing past outside. The world rocked dizzily around him, hard-edged and metallic.

Then Alek began to remember: the midnight piloting lesson, his teachers turning on him, and finally the sweet-smelling chemical that had knocked him out. He was still in the Stormwalker, still moving away from home. All of it had really happened…. He'd been kidnapped.

At least he was still alive. Maybe they planned to ransom him. Humiliating, he supposed, but better than dying.

His kidnappers evidently didn't think Alek was much of a threat. They hadn't tied him up. Someone had even thought to put a blanket between him and the rocking metal floor. And as far as Alek knew, Kara was still back at the castle, perfectly safe.

He opened his eyes and saw shifting patches of light, a grid of swaying shadows cast by a ventilation grill. Neat racks of explosive shells lined the walls, and the hiss of pneumatics was louder than ever. He was in the belly of the Stormwalker- the gunners' station.

"Your Highness?" came a nervous voice.

Alek pulled himself up from the blanket, squinting through the darkness. One of the crewmen sat bolt upright against a rack of shells, wide-eyed and at attention. Traitor or not, the man probably had never been alone with a prince before. He didn't look much older than twenty.

"Where are we?" Alek said, trying to use the steely tone of command his father had taught him.

"I…suppose I don't know exactly, Your Highness."

Alek frowned, but the man had a point. There wasn't much to see down here except through the gun sight of the 57-millimeter cannon. There was literally no sense of direction. It reminded Alek of the time he and Kara had walked through the castle in the dark. He had found each room perfectly, while she had almost gotten a concussion from slamming into the wall. Twice.

"Where are we headed, then?" Alek asked.

The crewman swallowed, then reached a hand up toward the communicating hatch. "I'll get Count Volger."

"No," Alek snapped, and the man froze.

Aleksandar smiled grimly. At least someone in this machine remember his station.

"What's your name?"

The man saluted. "Corporal Bauer, sir."

"All right, Bauer," he said in a calm, even voice. "I'm ordering you to let me go. I can drop out the belly hatch while we're still moving. You can follow and help me get home. I'll make sure my father rewards you. You'll be a hero, instead of a traitor."

"Your father…" The man's face fell. "I'm so sorry."

Like a long echo rolling in from the distance, Alek's mind replayed what Count Volger had said as the chemical had taken hold- something about his parents being dead.

"No," he said again, but the tone of command was gone. Suddenly the metal confines of the Stormwalker's belly felt crushingly small. In his own ears Alek's voice sounded broken now, like a child's. "Please let me go."

But the man looked away, embarrassed, reaching up to rap on the hatchway with an oily wrench.

* * *

><p>Kara's only means of transportation she could see in the stables were a horse, or Alek's practice runabout. She knew how to control neither.<p>

Abyssia's mind-bending contraption made Alek think that Kara had learned all that he had since he was four, but Kara knew nothing of what Alek did, except for the few languages Abyssia had planted in her head and the fencing she'd learned long ago.

Truth be told, Bethany had tried to teach Kara (or, Regina at the time) horse-back riding once after coming back from a camp Bethany had gone to, but that incident had left Kara in a cast for six months, so she wasn't eager to try _that _again.

That left the runabout.

Now Kara had read Leviathan, Behemoth, and Goliath 24 times each in the last year and 54 each altogether, but that in no way meant that she knew how to drive a walker.

But she had to save Alek.

Taking a deep breath, Kara climbed through the runabout's open top and fell headfirst into the pilot's chair. After righting herself, she grabbed the saunters and shoved them forward.

The next thing Kara knew, the walker was on the ground, upside- down. _Well, that didn't work_, she thought.

Kara pulled the saunters back but all it did was flip the machine even further. She then began pushing random buttons just to see what happened.

Twenty minutes later, Kara was covered in barbeque sauce and breadcrumbs (don't ask) but the runabout was upright again.

Pushing the saunters forward again (more gently this time, though), Kara began slowly chasing after the prince of Hohenburg. She wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious, but she figured Alek would've been drugged by now and was probably just being assured that his parents were dead.

Kara was right.

* * *

><p>"Your father made preparations before he left for Sarajevo," Count Volger said. "In case the worst happened."<p>

Alek didn't answer. He was staring out the Stormwalker's viewport from the commander's chair, watching the tops of young hornbeam trees roll past. Beside him Otto Klopp guided the machine with steady, perfect motions of the saunters.

Dawn was breaking, the horizon turning bloodred. They were still deep in the forest, heading west on a narrow carriage path.

"He was a wise man," Klopp said. "He knew that going so close to Serbia would be dangerous."

"But threats couldn't keep the archduke from his duty," Count Volger said.

"Duty?" Alek held his throbbing head; he could still taste the chemicals in his mouth. "But my mother… He would never take her into danger."

Count Volger sighed. "Whenever Princess Sophie could participate in affairs of state, your father was happy."

Alek shut his eyes. It always pained Father when Sophie wasn't allowed to stand beside him at official receptions. More punishment for loving a woman who wasn't royal.

The thought of his parents dead was absurd. It was like thinking of Kara walking half a kilometer without crashing into something. "This is a trick to keep me quiet. You're all _lying!_"

No one answered. The cabin resonated with the growl of Daimler engines and the scrape of branches against camouflage netting. Volger stood silent, his face thoughtful. The leather hand straps hanging from the ceiling swung in time with the walker's gait. Strangely, part of Alek's mind could focus only on Klopp's hands on the controls, marveling at his mastery on the machine.

"The Serbs wouldn't dare kill my parents," Alek said softly.

"I have other suspects in mind," Volger said flatly. "Those who want war among the great powers. But we have no time to theorize, Aleksander. Our first task is to get you to safety."

Alek stared out the walker's viewport again. Volger had addressed him as simply Aleksander, without any title, as if he were a commoner. But somehow the insult had lost its power.

"Assassins struck twice in the morning," Volger said. "Serb schoolboys hardly older than you, first with bombs and then with pistols. Both times they failed. Then last night a feast was given in your father's honor, and he was toasted for his bravery. But poison took your parents in the night."

Alek imagined them lying dead beside each other, and the hollowness inside him grew. But the story didn't make sense at all. The assassins would have come for Alek himself- the half royal, the lady-in-waiting's son. Not his father, whose blood was pure.

"If they're really dead, why does anyone still care about me? I'm _nothing _now."

"Some might think differently." Count Volger crouched next to the command chair. He stared out the window alongside Alek, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Emperor Franz Joseph is eighty-three years old. If he dies soon, some might turn to you in these anxious times."

"He hated my mother more than any of them." Alek closed his eyes again. The red-tinged forest outside was too bleak to stare at anymore. A patch of uneven ground set the cabin of uneven ground set the cabin shuddering, as if the world were unsteady in its path around the sun. "I just want to go home."

"Not until we can be sure it's safe, young master," said Otto Klopp. "We promised your father."

"What do promises matter if he's—"

"Silence!" Volger cried.

Aleksandar looked up at him in shock. He opened his mouth to protest, but the wildcount's hand clenched his shoulder. "Cut the engines!"

Master Klopp wrenched the Stormwalker to a halt, cycling the Daimlers down to a low rumble. The hiss of pneumatics settled around them.

Alek's ears rang in the sudden quiet, his body shuddering with echoes of the walker's motion. Through the viewport the leaves were motionless, the air without a breath of wind. No birds sang, as if the forest had been startled into silence by the walker's abrupt halt.

Volger's eyes closed.

Then Alek felt it. The slightest shudder passed through the metal frame of the Stormwalker- the tread of something larger, heavier. Something that shook the earth.

* * *

><p>After a while, Kara started to get the hang of Alek's runabout. As long as she didn't push the saunters too hard, she could still go pretty fast, but she often got smacked in the face by tree branches. By the time she'd finally learned how to go at full speed, the Stormwalker was in sight. Unfortunately, so was the S.M.S. <em>Beowulf. <em>

"You have _got _to be kidding me," Kara muttered.

She was still covered in barbeque sauce and bread crumbs from her "incident" with the runabout's many buttons, and now she was about to climb up a giant metal _thingy_, in danger of falling and breaking her neck, and then possibly get shot at to save her sixth fictional boyfriend.

"Nico would know better than to almost get shot at. Honestly, Austrian princes these days," she grumbled.

Sighing, Kara pushed the saunters forward and got as close as she dared to the Stormwalker. Kara then grabbed her backpack filled with her copy of _Leviathan _and Alek's war dolls, climbed out of the open top of the runabout, avoided getting hit by a branch, and grabbed on to the first handhold she saw on the metal frame of the Stormwalker.

When Kara reached the open viewport, she noticed that Volger and Alek were halfway out the top of the walker and Klopp just wasn't paying attention. Carefully, Kara pulled herself through and promptly fell into the walker, head first, with a loud CRASH.

* * *

><p>Count Volger stood, opening the hatchway overhead. Dawn light spilled in as he pulled himself halfway out.<p>

The shudder came again. Through the viewport Alek saw the tremor passing through the forest, leaves shivering in its wake. It unsettled the pit of his stomach, like an angry look from his father.

"Your Highness," Volger called, "if you would join me."

Alek stood and balanced on the commander's chair, hoisting himself up through the hatch.

Outside, his eyes squinted against the half-risen sun; dawn had turned the sky a deep orange around them. The Stormwalker stood a little taller than the young hornbeam trees, and the horizon seemed enormous after hours of peering through the viewport.

Volger pointed back the way they had come. "There are your enemies, Prince Aleksandar."

Alek squinted against the rising sun. The other machine was kilometers away, towering twice as tall as the trees. Her six huge legs moved unhurriedly, but men scurried like ants across the gun deck, raising signal flags and manning the turrets. Along her flank stretched the letter of her name: S.M.S. _Beowulf_.

Alek watched a massive foot plant itself upon the forest floor. Long seconds later another tremor arrived, rippling across the trees around them and up through the Stormwalker's metal frame. As the next step fell, a distant treetop flailed and then vanished, torn down by the giant walker's stride.

The red and black stripes of the Kaiser's Landforce Jack flew from her spar deck, whipping in the breeze.

"A German land dreadnought," Alek said softly. "But aren't we still in Austria-Hungary?"

"Yes," Volger said. "but all those who want chaos and war are hunting us, Your Highness. Or do you still doubt me?"

_But what if it's a rescue mission?_ Alek thought. Maybe his kidnappers had been lying after all, and Father and Mother were still alive. A vast search for Alek had been launched, with the German land navy helping! Why else would this monstrosity be allowed on Austrian soil?

Then Alek saw that the machine was changing direction, slowly turning sideways across the sunrise….

CRASH!

Alek jumped down from the hatchway and saw Kara lying in a heap right below the viewport.

"Kara?" Alek exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you; what does it look like?" she replied, not leaving her spot on the ground. "Hi Volger!" she called.

The count ignored her. "They see us, Klopp," he said quietly.

Kara was just standing up to get a better look when the first broadside erupted, bright flashed rippling along the dreadnought's flanks, puffs of cannon smoke swelling into a hazy veil around her. The sound followed moments later- a rolling thunder that broke into sharp, tearing burst from every direction. The treetops churned around them, concussions shaking the Stormwalker and throwing clouds of leaves into the sky.

Then Volger was dragging him back, farther away from the viewport, the engines roaring back to life.

"Load the cannon!" Master Klopp cried to the men below.

Alek found himself deposited into the commander's chair as the machine began to move. He struggled with the seat straps but Kara had sat in a chair next to him and plopped her feet on his lap, laughing maniacally at all the havoc. He opened his mouth to yell at her, but a terrible thought took hold of his mind, freezing him.

_If they're trying to kill me…. it's all true._

Count Volger crouched beside him, yelling over the rumble of engines and gunfire. "Take heart at this politeness, Alek. It proves that you are still a threat to the throne."

* * *

><p>The second broadside of cannon shells fell closer, a spray of gravel and wooden splinters rattling against the viewport's grill, the smaller pieces spilling through.<p>

Alek spit dirt from his mouth and Kara quickly removed her feet from his lap to avoid the debris.

"Vision to half!" Master Klopp cried, then cursed. The two crewmen were below, and Volger was halfway up through the hatch again, his legs dangling from the ceiling. And Kara was useless.

Klopp glanced apologetically at Alek. "If you please, Your Highness."

"Certainly, Master Klopp," Alek said. He unbuckled and pulled himself up from the commander's chair. The cabin rocked and swayed, and he grasped the straps overhead to keep his footing.

He tried to turn the viewport's crank, but it wouldn't budge.

"You're so weak," Kara commented.

Just to contradict her, Alek took the crank in both hands and strained harder, but the massive armored visor only grudgingly closed a few centimeters.

Another broadside shook the earth beneath them, and the walker staggered forward. Count Volger's riding boots flailed, kicking Alek in the back of the head. Kara began laughing hysterically. Alek glared at her.

"They can still see us!" Volger shouted from above. "We're too tall!"

Master Klopp twisted at the saunters, hunkering the Stormwalker lower. The hornbeam trees rose up in the viewport, the walker's clumsy gait sending Volger's boots swinging again and Kara continued laughing hysterically. For an astonished moment, Alek watched Klopp's hands on the controls- he'd never seen a walker shuffle along in a crouch like this.

Of course, he'd never imagined being laughed at by his "childhood companion." Or a Cyklop Stormwalker having to hide from anything. But against a dreadnought this walker was practically a toy.

Grunting and heaving, Alek managed to close the right viewport to half. He reached for the other crank.

"Young master, the antenna!" Klopp cried out.

"Yes, of course!" The Stormwalker's wireless antenna stretched up above the trees, the archducal flag snapping in the breeze. But Alek had no idea how to lower it. He looked around the cabin, wishing he'd paid more attention to the crewmen when learning how to pilot.

Finally, he spotted a windlass beside the wireless set. But as he darted for it, "ALEK, GET DOWN!"

Alek turned in surprise towards the voice, and suddenly Kara leaped out at him and tackled him to the ground, his head clanking painfully against the metal floor.

"What in blazes was that for?" Alek exclaimed as Kara kept him pressed against the floor.

Kara didn't answer, but suddenly Alek heard a deafening BANG as a bullet was shot and a CLANG as it skimmed the right viewport before flying through the open left one, inside the cabin, right where Alek had been standing before Kara had tackled him.

Alek looked up at the girl in bewilderment.

"You saved my life," he said softly.

Kara shrugged, standing awkwardly. "Yeah, well, you know, I don't hate you _that _much."

Alek smiled weakly and stood, watching out the viewport warily. Through the trees, he saw a shadowy figure holding a rifle. The one who'd tried to kill him.

"Young master!" Klopp cried again, reminding Alek of his duty.

With one more grateful glance at Kara, he darted again for the windlass and Volger's dangling boots delivered another blow to his shoulder, making Kara laugh, despite the awkwardness of the recent dire situation. The windlass spun wildly the moment Alek unlocked it, the antenna telescoping closed a few centimeters from his ear.

He started back for the commander's seat, then saw that the left viewport was still open. He reached across the lurching cabin and began to crank it tighter.

Volger dropped back into the cabin, closing the hatch above him against a sudden rain of dirt and pebbles. "We're out of sight now."

Another broadside rumbled in the distance, followed by more explosions flickering among the trees ahead. Debris struck the Stormwalker, but the viewport's grills were squeezed as tight as a comb's teeth now; only the fine dust of pulverized forest floor filtered through.

Alek felt a moment of satisfaction- he'd done something useful. Kara had no reason to make fun of him now! This was his first real battle, when only hours before, he'd been playing with tin soldiers (not dolls). The rumble of explosions and the shriek of engines somehow filled the hollowness inside him.

The Stormwalker was thrashing through dense forest now. Of course- any cleared path would be clearly visible from the _Beowulf's _lookout towers.

Alek's heart was beating fast as he slipped back into the commander's chair and watched Klopp's hands on the saunters. His long hours of piloting practice seemed suddenly trifling. All that time in runabouts had been pretend-play, and this was real.

"How'd you get here anyway?" Alek asked Kara, who had seated herself next to him again.

The girl shrugged. "Stole your runabout," she replied casually. "Hopefully you won't need it again cause it's…kinda…." She cleared her throat. "Broken."

Alek was angry that Kara had stolen his machine and destroyed it, but she _had _saved his life…plus….

"Are you covered in….bread crumbs?" he asked.

Kara held up her breaded arms. "Yeah," she muttered. "And barbeque sauce. Honestly, I didn't know there _was _barbeque sauce in 1914, much less that it would randomly come out of your runabout, but you know…"

Now Alek was confused. "What do you…?" he began.

Kara grinned maliciously. "Spoilers," she teased. Alek sighed and turned away.

Volger crouched between the chairs to peer forward, his face blackened with dirt and sweat. Blood flowed from a scratch above one eye, shining bright red in the gloom of the shuttered cabin.

"I believe I suggested a smaller landship, Master Klopp."

Klopp barked a laugh, still struggling to keep the Stormwalker low to the ground. "Don't appreciate the extra armor, Volger? A runabout would've been blown off her feet by that last broadside."

"See?" Kara whispered. "It's not _entirely _my fault that your giant toy got destroyed. The broadside killed it. And at least be glad I saved your war dolls."

The forest rumbled again, but the explosions came from well behind and off to the right. The dreadnought had lost sight of them for now.

"The sun was rising behind the _Beowulf_. So we're headed west," Alek said. "We should turn left. The pines and firs down in the south are much taller than these hornbeams."

"Well remembered, Your Highness," Master Klopp said, adjusting his course.

Alek clapped him on the shoulder. "You were right to choose a Stormwalker, Klopp. We'd be dead now, otherwise."

"We'd be halfway to Switzerland, you mean," Volger said, managing to sound as if this were some fencing lesson that Alek was failing to comprehend. "In a runabout half this size, or on horses, they wouldn't have spotted us in the first place. Plus, we'd be faster and _someone _would still be back at the castle," he glared intently at Kara. "or even better, _lost in the forest._"

Kara grinned. "Oh, Count," she said teasingly. "You know you love me."

Alek glared up at the wildcount. "She saved my life, Volger," he growled. "I could've been shot!"

"If we hadn't been spotted, you wouldn't have been shot at!" Volger pointed out.

Alek had a remark prepared, but before he could open his mouth, the intercom popped.

"Loaded and ready, sir."

Alek dropped his gaze toward the cabin floor. "Those two would have been more use up here. There's not much they can do with that peashooter against a dreadnought."

"True, Your Highness," Klopp said. "But she'll have escorts- smaller, faster ships moving below tree height. We may get a whiff of them sooner than you think."

"Ah, quite right." Alek closed his mouth and swallowed. The rush of battle was beginning to fade, and his hands were shaking.

All he'd done was turn a few cranks and get tackled by a girl; the others had handled everything important. The bruises left by Volger's swinging boots and Kara's flying tackle still throbbed, reminders of how Alek had mostly managed to get in the way.

He leaned back into the commander's chair. As the simple, overwhelming fear of being shot at faded, the emptiness was rushing back….

Alek wished that it were him bleeding instead of Volger- anything to distract himself from the truth welling up in his mind.

"She's lost our range," Klopp said. "No big guns for a count of thirty."

"They've turned to give chase," Volger said. "But wait till their scouts spot us. She'll swing around for another broadside soon enough."

Alek cast about for something to say, but found himself in the grip of a silent panic, his vision blurring with tears. The attack had swept away his last doubts.

His father was dead; his mother too. Both gone forever.

His Serene Highness, Prince Aleksandar of Hohenburg, was alone now. He might never see his home again. The armed forces of two empires were hunting him, set against one walker and four men. And Kara, though she hardly counted.

Volger and Klopp fell silent, and when Alek turned, he saw his despair reflected in their faces. He clenched the hand rests of the commander's chair, fighting to breathe.

His father would've known what to say in this situation: a short and forceful speech, praising the men for their efforts, urging them to carry on. But Alek could only stare into the forest, blinking away tears.

If he didn't say something, the emptiness would swallow him.

"Alek?" Kara asked, poking his arm. "Are you dead?"

Alek glared at her. "No, Kara, I'm not dead," he said tiredly. "I'm just…thinking."

Kara _hmmphed. _"Well, stop looking so depressed while you think! It's just sad!" she turned to face the men. "All of you! You should be celebrating! We're escaping! We're alive! The Germans haven't gotten us yet! Sure, two people very dear to us died last night, but there are still six of us here who are alive and well, and we're going to keep it that way! Now, get up, all of you! Stop being so sad and let's just—"

A burst of gunfire broke out in the trees ahead, cutting through the grind of the engines. The walker twisted to a new heading, and Count Volger jumped to his feet again.

"Seriously?" Kara shouted at the air. "I was _trying _to make a dramatically inspiring speech here!"

"Horse scout, I reckon!" Master Klopp said. "They have stables on the _Beowulf._"

A shower of bullets rattled against the Stormwalker's visor, louder than any spray of dirt and pebbles. Alek imagined metal projectiles ripping through the armor and cutting into him, just as that bullet would've if Kara hadn't saved him, and his heart began to race again.

The awful emptiness lifted a little….

A huge _boom_ shook the walker in its track, and a billow of smoke rose across the viewport, its choking stench spilling into the cabin.

"Oooh! A smoke machine!" Kara exclaimed. "Those things make everything 20% cooler!" **(A/N: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic reference) **She gasped dramatically. "You know what this calls for? A PARTY! **(A/N: another MLP:FIM reference. Don't judge me) **Alek—" she thrust out her hand. "Dance with me!"

Alek was confused. "No! We're in the middle of a battle."

Kara _hmmph_ed. "Seriously, Alek, you're ruining the party. STOP IMPERSONATING SOCIETY!"

Alek sighed as the smoke continued to billow throughout the cabin. For a moment he thought they'd been hit, but then an explosion answered from the distance, followed by the crack of trees and the awful cries of horses.

"That was _us_," he murmured. The men below had fired the Stormwalker's cannon.

As the echoes died, Volger called, "Do you know how to load a Spandau machine gun, Alek?"

"Ooh! I do! I do!" Kara called out.

"No, you don't!" Alek said.

"I do too! You know, technically…theoretically…..in my mind…..Oh come one, Alek! You're ruining my childhood! STOP IMPERSONATING SOCIETY!"

Alek sighed again. Technically, he had no idea how to load a machine gun either, but already his hands were moving to unbuckle his seat straps.

**A/N: Whatdya think? Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7 Deryn & Apocalypsia

**A/N: Hola peoples! Here's a special update for you! This chapter is dedicated to a girl whose name I'd rather not say on the internet, but she goes to my school, her mom is my Math/Religion teacher, and she JUST FINISHED LEVIATHAN! YAYNESS! Anyway, CS, you know who you are. This update is all because of you.**

**Here's the next Deryn/Apocalypsia chapter. The next one will hopefully come soonish depending on stuff.**

**Note: during chapter A/Ns with (( )) are Bramblepool's commentage. Everything else is mine (CPG's). I believe it's just Bramblepool's here. **

**Hope you like it! Please review!**

**We own nothing!**

Deryn woke up with her whole head throbbing. She slowly lifted her hand to her forehead.

"Hey! I see Sleeping Beauty's finally woken up!"

Deryn yanked her eyes open painfully to see the grinning face of Apocalypsia. (The face was like 15 feet away, but still, it was Apocalypsia.) Deryn groaned and shut her eyes.

"Yo Baka! Rise and shine!" Deryn ignored her. "How 'bout you try looking down, _Mr._ Sharp."

Deryn glanced down quickly. She almost screamed in surprise. She was lofting 10,000 feet in the air. London had been reduced to a handful of gray-brown squares, and the surrounding farmlands were a collage of greens, browns, and yellows.

Then it all came rushing back.

Why she was in the sky, Why Apocalypsia was here, and most importantly why her head was throbbing.

"What's the matter with you!" Shrieked Deryn.

"Why, Mr. Sharp, whatever do you mean?" Asked Apocalypsia innocently.

"You know very well what I mean, Miss Pandemonium." Deryn spat.

"Hmm, Miss Pandemonium…" Apocalypsia said thoughtfully. "I quite like that! For calling me Miss Pandemonium, Mr. Sharp, this will help with the headache that I have nothing to do with the cause of." Apocalypsia tossed a small jar at Deryn.

"What is it?" Deryn asked suspiciously, catching the jar before it hurtled to the ground, giving some innocent by-stander (well, technically under-stander) a concussion.

"An ointment for non-thrown-by-Apocalypsia-rock induced headaches."

Deryn cautiously unscrewed the green lid and gave the contents a cautious sniff. It smelled un-hurty. Ish. Deryn decided that her situation really couldn't get much worse so she dabbed a finger into the gooey substance and rubbed it into her forehead. It felt cool and refreshing. Not immediately dropping off dead, Deryn took more of the substance, and sighed as the pain finally subsided.

"Where did you get that stuff?"

"I made it." Replied Apocalypsia absently.

Deryn froze. "You made it?"

"Yeah. It surprisingly comes in handy a lot."

Deryn stared in wonder at the pack that the girl always carried around with her. "What else is in there?"

"The world may never know." Replied Apocalypsia mystically. "No, Seriously. I don't even know what is in there. I suspect I may have a colony of squirrels…"

Deryn shook her head, troubled. "What's in that stuff?"

"Mint, chamomile, lavender, valerian, willow bark, feverfew and essence of squid." Recited Apocalypsia.

"Well that's wonderful—Wait, did you just say essence of squid?"

"Yup." Apocalypsia confirmed.

"How do you even get the essence of a squid?" Asked Deryn, not necessarily wanting to know the answer.

Apocalypsia shivered and shook her head. "You do _not_ wanna know."

Deryn shook her head. "How long was I out?"

"Meh." Apocalypsia shrugged. "Maybe fifteen minutes. Or two. I'm not good with estimating time."

Deryn frowned. That meant her time was (probably) up. She looked down, but the line leading to the ground hung slack. They weren't reeling her in just yet.

A shiver passed through the pilots rig, and Deryn saw a few of the tentacles around her clench, coiling like ribbons scraped between a pair of scissors. They were slowly gathering back into a single strand.

The Huxley was nervous.

Deryn swung herself from side to side, ignoring Apocalypsia, who was staring at her curiously, to search the horizon for whatever was spooking the airbeast.

Then she spotted it: a dark shapeless mass in north, a rolling wave of clouds spreading across the sky. Its leading edge crept foreword stealthily, blackening the northern suburbs with rain.

"Now _that_," said Apocalypsia, "Is most likely not a good sign."

Deryn gave Apocalypsia her best "you're a complete idiot" look. "No _really_? I hadn't realized!" She said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. **((Love that term!))**  
>Apocalypsia blinked. "Wow. I thought you would have realized that by now. I mean it is pretty darn obvious."<p>

Deryn ignored the girl, and waved a hand at the ground men. Could they see her well enough? But of course they would only think she was larking about.

"Bum-rag!" She swore, **((that 'swear' doesn't even make sense in the context! Deryn, You're such a failure at making sense… I mean Apocalypsia's no better, but still!))** and glared at the roll of yellow cloth tied to her wrist. A real ascender scout would have semaphore flags, or at least a message lizard that could scamper down the line. But all they'd given her was a panic signal.

And Deryn Sharp was _not_ panicking!

At least she didn't think she was…

Then an idea came to her. "Hey, Apocalypsia. You can climb right?"

"Yeah…" Replied Apocalypsia cautiously.

"Then by any chance do you want to climb down and tell the ground men about our situation?"

"No." Apocalypsia said.

"Awww, why not?"

Apocalypsia thought about that for a moment. "Well, I'd like to say it's for some noble reason, like not ruining the story, but frankly, I'm too lazy."

"Seriously?"

"Look, I'm tired. No need to judge me."

Deryn stared at the blackness in the sky, wondering if it were only a last bit of night the sunrise hadn't chased away. What if she had no air-sense at all, and the height had gone to her head?

Deryn closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began counting to ten.

"Hey! This is not a good time for a nap, _Mr._ Sharp!" Screamed Apocalypsia.

Deryn snapped her eyes open, giving the girl a good death glare. Then she looked at the clouds. They were still there—closer.

The Huxley trembled again, and Deryn smelled lightning in the air. The approaching squall was definitely real.

She stared again at the yellow cloth. If the officers below saw it unfurl, they'd think she was panicking. Then she'd have to explain that it hadn't been terror, just a coolheaded observation that rough weather was coming. Maybe they'd commend her for making the right decision.

But what if the squall changed course? Or faded to a drizzle before it arrived at the scrubs?

Deryn clenched her teeth, wondering how long she'd been up here.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the rolled-up yellow cloth and the approaching storm, wondering what a _boy_ would do. **((A boy would either completely panic, or be like Apocalypsia and be too lazy to have a reaction, Deryn.))**

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review!**

**Also, if you are over 14, go to Scott Westerfeld's blog (scott Westerfeld. Com- remove spaces) and e-mail your congress people to STOP SOPA AND PIPA! WE MUST SAVE FANFICTION!**

**REVIEW!**


	8. Chapter 8 Deryn & Apocalypsia

They were just beginning to reel Deryn and Apocalypsia in when the storm struck.

The ground men had noticed the darkening sky. They were scrambling about the field, securing the hangar tent with extra spikes, getting the recruits under cover. Four men strained at the ascenders winch, pulling Deryn and her flight companion down, steady and fast. A dozen crew waited to grab both beasties tentacles when they were low enough.

But they were both still five hundred feet up when the first sheets of rain arrived. The cold drops fell diagonally, hitting her dangling feet, even under the cover of the airbeast. Its tentacles coiled tighter, and she wondered how long the medusa would take this pounding before it spilled its hydrogen, hurling itself toward the ground.

"Stay calm, beastie," Deryn said softly. "They're bringing us in."

Meanwhile, Apocalypsia shrieked at her Huxley, "You better stay calm! This is _not_ the time to panic! I repeat, do _not _panic!"

Deryn tried to tell her that the medusa was only panicking more because of her screams, but the wind tore the words from her mouth.

But now Apocalypsia was laughing manically at the havoc being wreaked around her. Deryn had to admit that she was a wee bit scared be the girl.

A wild gust caught Deryn's medusa's airbag, and it billowed like a full sail. Deryn swung out into the full force of the storm, her boy-slops instantly soaked with freezing rain.

Then the cable snapped taught, whipping both beasts earthward like a kite without enough string. They dropped toward houses and backyard gardens, down to just above the prison walls. It was a wonder that the two Huxleys hadn't crashed into each other. Not yet at least. Directly beneath Deryn, people scurried along wet streets, shoulders hunched, unaware of the monsters overhead.

Another gust of wind struck, and the Huxleys were forced low enough that Deryn could see the ribs of the umbrellas below.

"Barking spiders! This isn't good."

"No _really_?" Screamed Apocalypsia. "I thought that everything was going perfectly!"

Deryn 'hmphed'. That girl really knew how to get under her skin.

The medusa swelled again, trying to regain its lift, and leveled off a few dozen feet above the rooftops. The cable strained against the wind for a moment then loosened. The ground men were giving them slack, Deryn reckoned, letting them climb a bit more, like a fisherman trying to keep a catch on the line.

But that extra cable was more weight for the two Huxleys to carry, and both the airbeasts and the passengers were heavy with rain. She and Apocalypsia could spill the water ballast, but once it was gone, there'd be nothing left to slow their fall if either of the beasties panicked.

The cable was scraping across the prisons rooftops now, snapping against shingles and drainpipes. Deryn saw it snag on one of the smoking chimneys, and her eyes widened…

No wonder the ground men were letting out more cable—they were keeping he and Apocalypsia away from the prison. If a chimney spark drifted up and reached the Huxley's airbags, the hydrogen would ignite and the ascender would explode into a massive fireball.  
>Suddenly Apocalypsia bounced hard in her harness. Deryn's Huxley jolted downwards sickeningly, and milliseconds later Deryn heard an ear-splitting 'CRACK!' There was the sound of tearing skin. Deryn began falling much too fast for comfort.<p>

"Your Huxley sprung a leak!" Apocalypsia shouted some other things but Deryn couldn't hear a word.

"What?" Screamed Deryn at the top of her lungs.

"When. You. Hear. Me. Scream. Spill. Your. Ballast!"

"Aye!" replied Deryn, really not sure why she was trusting Apocalypsia.

Then Apocalypsia snapped her ballast open, and unbuckled her harness. She leapt down onto Deryn's Huxley, and out of sight. Deryn sat, waiting for the signal.

Her Huxley was still falling, faster now that Apocalypsia had added her weight. It wouldn't be very long until the two Huxleys hit the—

Deryn's thoughts were interrupted by a somewhat bloodcurdling shriek from above her. Deryn's signal. She reached forward, and gave the ballast cord a good yank. Deryn felt even more water showering down on her head.

Deryn got a fluttering feeling in her gut, she was rising. The sudden movement pulled the Huxley with two passengers a squick higher than the other.

Apocalypsia came back into view, as she flying-leaped in the general direction of the empty Huxley. One of her hands caught on the metal rig that held the rig to the beast. However, the rain-slick aluminum proved insufficient purchase. ((FANCY WORDAGE.))

However, before the girl plummeted down to a rather sticky end, she reached up with her other arm to grip the bar better. Apocalypsia jerked her arm hard, causing her legs to swing forward and catch on the saddle. She slipped back into position and (sort of) re-buckled herself.

"What in blazes did you use to fix it!" Deryn shouted over the fury of the storm.

"Duct tape."

Deryn was about to ask what "duct tape" was, then decided better. "What made it tear!"

"A bullet."

Deryn's eyes widened. A bullet? That meant that Apocalypsia's spontaneous jumping had _saved Deryn's life._The bullet must have just skimmed over the top of the beastie. If it was going fast enough, it would have torn a hole in the membrane. If the bullet had hit any lower, Deryn would currently be a squick of ash being battered by the rain. Which meant that Deryn was thankfully still alive. ((Yeah, I realize that Deryn didn't question who shot the Huxley, but I'm definitely too lazy to change it so… yeah, that's what you get.))

But that also meant that technically, Deryn was in debt.

"Um, thanks." Shouted Deryn awkwardly.

Apocalypsia shrugged. "I would have died too, and that would make me sad inside."

Deryn realized that she was right and was glad to feel a little less in debt.

Then the pair of airbeasts slowly began to rise, despite the most recent loss of hydrogen. The ground men gave a cheer and set upon the winch, furiously hauling the airbeasts in against the wind. The captain was supervising, shouting orders from the back of the all terrain carriage.

"Oh no!" Cried Apocalypsia, indicating the tigeresques. "The poor little kitties are getting soaked!"

"What about _us_?" Deryn didn't bother to point out that the thousand pound tigeresques were neither "little" nor "kitties."

"Mleh!"

Deryn looked down and saw that the ground men had pulled them over the proving grounds, and away from the prison's smoking chimneys.

But then the wind switched directions. Deryn's airbeast billowed, pulling Deryn, Apocalypsia and the other Huxley in a half circle toward the other end of the scrubs.

The Huxley let out a screech above the wind, like the horrible sound when one of Da's air bladders would spring a leak.

"Ach! What was that!"

"No, beastie! We're almost safe!" Deryn shouted.

But the medusa had been tossed about and shot once too often. Its gasbag was contracting, the tentacles coiling as tight as rattlesnakes. Deryn looked over to the other Huxley, and saw that it too, was spilling its hydrogen.

Deryn Sharp smelled the hydrogen spilling into the air, the scent like bitter almonds. She was falling…

But the wind still carried them, changing direction without rhyme or reason. Deryn was aware that Apocalypsia was laughing hysterically, which was not helping the beasties to relax.

They had to be heavier than air now, but in a gale like this, Deryn fancied that you could fly a bowler hat on a bit of string.

At the other end of the cable, the ground men were watching helplessly, the flight captain ducking as the gyrating cable sliced overhead. If they tried to crank the beasts any closer, they'd pull them straight down into the ground.

Jaspert was running across the field toward her, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting something…

She caught the sound of his voice, but the wind whipped the words away. Deryn's feet now dangled a few yards above the ground, which raced by as if she were on horseback. She looked over at Apocalypsia and saw that every few moments her feet would jar painfully against the ground.

The girl winced every time her feet hit, and Deryn wondered how her ankles hadn't been reduced to dust yet.

The prison loomed close again as the two Huxleys sped along. Smashing into its walls at this speed would turn the airbeasts and their passengers into bloody splotches.

Deryn's fingers scrambled at the pilots rig, searching for a way to escape the harness. She reckoned her chances were better dropping onto muddy grass then crashing into a wall. And with her weight gone, the Huxleys would rise back into the air.

Of course, that clart-rag of a coxswain hadn't bothered showing her how to unbuckle the rig. The leather straps were swollen with rain, cinched as tight as a duck's bum. Evidently, the service didn't trust recruits not to wriggle out in a panic and fall to their deaths.

Then Deryn saw a knot over her head—the cable that bound the airbeast to the ground! She looked at the cable stretched out between her and the winch… about three-hundred feet of it now. That length of rain soaked hemp _had_ to weigh more than one skinny wee lassie and her wet clothes.

If she could set the Huxleys free, they might still have enough hydrogen to carry them up to safety.

But the ground was rising again, blurring past just beneath her feet—the prison walls ahead. Reaching up with one hand, Deryn felt the half familiar shape of the knot…

It was nothing but a backhanded mooring hitch! She remembered Jaspert telling her how air service riggers used sailors knots, the same ones she'd tied a thousand times on Da's balloons!

As Deryn struggled to free the wet cable from its knot, her boots struck the ground with a bone-jarring thud, skidding across the wet grass. Apocalypsia was still repeatedly smacking into the ground.

But the real danger wasn't below—it was the approaching prison walls. Deryn, Apocalypsia, and the Huxleys were seconds away from smashing into that shining expanse of wet stone.

Finally her fingers pushed the working end of the cable free. The knot spilled, the rope twisting like a live thing, skinning her fingers as it slipped from the steel ring.

As the weight of three-hundred feet of wet hemp dropped away, they cleared the prison walls with yards to spare.

"Hurrah!" Cheered Apocalypsia.

Deryn's breath caught as a belching chimney passed beneath her feet. She imagined raindrops tumbling down its mouth to the coal fires below, spitting steam, the sparks rising up to ignite to two angry masses of hydrogen overhead.

But the wind whipped the sparks away—moments later, the Huxleys had cleared the southernmost prison buildings.  
>As she climbed, Deryn heard a hoarse cheer from below.<p>

The ground men raised their arms in triumph. Jaspert was beaming, cupping both hands to his face and shouting something that sounded congratulatory, as if to say she'd done exactly what he'd told her!

"It was _my_ barking idea, Jaspert Sharp," she muttered, sucking her rope burned fingers.

"Here!" Apocalypsia tossed yet another small jar at Deryn. "It's a cream for wet huxley-cable burned fingers!"

"How specific," Muttered Deryn, as she unscrewed the jar and jammed her sore fingers into it.

Deryn sighed as the pain was relieved from her throbbing digits.

Of course, she was still in the middle of a storm, strapped to an irritable Huxley, her only human company being a thirteen year old girl who seriously was not right in the head. And all of them were soaring across a stretch of London with precious few spots to land.

And how _was_ Deryn meant to land the beasties? She had no way to vent hydrogen, no more ballast in case the creatures spooked, And no clue if anyone had ever free ballooned with a Huxley and lived to tell the tale.

Still… at least she was flying. If she ever came down alive, the boffins would have to admit as how she'd passed this test.

Boy or not, Deryn Sharp had shown a squick of air sense after all.


	9. Chapter 9 Alek & Kara

**A/N: Hola everyone. Here's the next chapter. In this chappie, Kara will almost throw and kumquat at Klopp's head, and she and Volger will swordfight awesomely. I apologize in advance for my failing at describing swordfight; unfortunately, I am not a fencer (but I'm working on it) and so I have no idea what to call things. But I did my best. Enjoy the chapter and please review!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Including the many, many, _many _references I made in this chapter that I think only the people who know me in real life will get all of.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine<p>

Alek awoke to the chatter of Morse Code.

Wood creaked as he stirred, and a damp smell filled his nose. Dust swirled in shafts of sunlight streaming through the half-rotten walls. He sat up and blinked, staring at the hay covering his clothes.

Prince Aleksandar had never slept in a barn before. Of course, he'd done a lot of new things in the last two weeks.

Klopp, Bauer, and Master Engineer Hoffman were snoring nearby. Kara was pulling random objects out of the bag she'd somehow brought into the Stormwalker and dropping them from the hayloft. Alek's stomach twinged **(A/N: according to spell check, that's not a word; do I care? No) **as he saw that some of them were his tin soldiers. The Stormwalker crouched in the half-lit barn, its head almost level with the hayloft. Alek had maneuvered the machine inside last night, shuffling at half height in the darkness to squeeze it in. A tricky bit of piloting, especially with Kara yelling completely non-helpful tips in his ear every three steps.

Morse Code crackled again through the walker's open viewport.

Count Volger, of course. The man was allergic to sleep.

The gap between the hayloft and the walker's head was barely the length of a sword, an easy jump.

Alek stood, just as Kara was about to throw some sort of fruit at Klopp's head.

"Whatcha doin'?" Kara asked in a sing-song voice.

"I'm going to see what's going on in there," Alek replied in a whisper, pointing at the walker.

"Ooh! I wanna come!" Kara whispered, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.

Alek sighed. "Just stay quiet," he commanded; then jumped.

He landed softly, his bare feet silent on the metal armor. Kara landed next to him, almost sliding off the walker to her death, but Alek grabbed her hands and helped her keep her footing. They eased themselves over the edge to peek in through the viewport. Volger sat facing away in the commander's chair, a wireless earphone pressed against his head.

Alek motioned for Kara to stay still, then slowly, silently, he lowered one foot to the edge of the viewport….

"Careful not to fall, Your Highness."

Alek sighed, wondering if he would ever manage to sneak up on his fencing master. He slid through the viewport and dropped into the pilot's chair, Kara tumbling in behind him with a crash.

"Don't you ever sleep, Count?" Alek asked.

"Not with that racket." Volger glared at Kara, who had pulled up a chair next to Alek and plopped her feet on his lap.

Alek tilted his head in confusion. "What?"

"She talks in her sleep," Volger explained.

Alek frowned. He'd grown used to sleeping through the noises of men and machines. Kara's mutterings were nothing. Yet somehow the tiny crackle of dots and dashes from the wireless had woken him. Two weeks of being hunted had altered his senses. "Anything about us?"

Volger shrugged. "The codes have changed again. But there's more chatter than I've ever heard before; the army is preparing for war."

"Maybe they've forgotten me," Alek said. In those first days land dreadnoughts had stalked the hills in every direction, lookouts swarming their spar decks. But lately the fugitives had seen only an occasional aeroplane hovering overhead.

"You are not forgotten, Your Highness," Volger said flatly.

"No one could forget you, Alek," Kara encouraged. "You're unforgettable." She put her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair, chuckling. "And not in a good way."

"Serbia simply presents an easier target, Alek," Volger continued, ignoring Kara.

"Unlucky for them," Alek said softly.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Volger muttered. "The empire has wanted a war with Serbia for years now. The rest is an excuse."

"An _excuse_?" Alek said, anger rising as he imagined his murdered parents' faces. But he couldn't argue with Volger's logic. The dreadnoughts hunting him were German and Austrian, after all. His family had been destroyed by old friends, not some hapless gang of Serbian schoolboys. "But my father always argued for peace."

"And he can argue no longer. Clever, isn't it?"

Alek shook his head. "You horrify me, Volger. I sometimes think you _admire _the people behind this."

"Their plans have a certain elegance- assassinating a peacemaker to start a war. But they made one very foolish mistake." The man turned and faced him. "They left you alive."

"I don't matter, not anymore."

"Of course you matter, Alek!" Kara exclaimed, removing her feet from his lap. "If something happened to you, I would only have five fictional boyfriends! And unless Abyssia can take me to Camp Half-Blood, you're all I got! So of course you matter! Why do you think I saved you from getting shot?"

Alek and Volger stared at her.

"What?" Alek asked. "Abyssia? Camp Half-Blood? _Fictional_? What do you mean?"

Kara grinned mischievously. "Spoilers."

Volger gave her a long look; then switched off the wireless, and the cabin fell into silence. The flutter of birds filtered down from the rafters of the barn.

"You matter more than anyone knows, Aleksandar."

"_How_? I have no parents, no real title." Alek looked down at himself, dressed in stolen farmer's clothes and covered in hay. "I haven't even had a proper _bath _in two weeks."

"No, indeed." Volger sniffed. "But your father planned carefully for the coming war."

"What do you mean?"

"When we get to Switzerland, I will explain." Volger switched the wireless on again. "But that won't happen unless we can buy fuel and parts tomorrow. Go wake the men."

Alek raised an eyebrow. "Did you just give me an order, Count?"

"Go wake the men _if you please_, Your Serene Highness."

"I know you're only being insolent to distract me from your little secret, Count. But that doesn't make it any less _annoying._"

Volger let out a laugh. "I suppose not. But I can't give up my secret yet. I promised your father to wait till the proper time."

"What did you promise _exactly_?" Kara asked. "'Cause depending on the promise, you'll probably end up telling him before the 'proper time' anyway. You know, loopholes and all."

Alek ignored her. He was growing tired of being treated like this, never told what Volger's plans were until the last moment. Maybe he'd been a child the day his parents had died, but no longer.

In the last two weeks he'd learned how to start a fire, how to replace the engines' glow plugs, how to track their nighttime progress toward Switzerland with a sextant and the stars. He could squeeze the Stormwalker under bridges and into barns, and strip and clean the Spandau machine guns as easily as washing his own clothes- another thing he'd learned to do. Hoffman had even taught him to cook a little, boiling dried meat to soften it, adding the vegetables they'd gathered while trampling some unlucky farmer's field.

But most important, Alek had learned to shut away despair. He hadn't cried since that first day, not once, and especially not with Kara following him everywhere. His misery was locked away in a small, hidden corner of himself. The only time the awful hollowness struck now was when he was alone on watch, while the others were asleep.

And even then Alek practiced the art of keeping his tears inside.

"I'm not a child anymore."

"I know." Volger's voice softened. "But your father asked me to wait, Alek, and I intend to honor his wishes, despite _loopholes_." He gave Kara a look. "Go wake the men, and after breakfast we'll have a fencing lesson. You'll need your reflexes sharp for this afternoon's piloting.

Alek stared at Volger another moment, then finally nodded.

He felt the need for a sword in his hand.

* * *

><p>Kara stood as Alek exited the walker.<p>

"Not you, just yet, girl," Volger stopped her, turning his Morse code-radio-thing off.

Turning back, Kara raised an eyebrow at the wildcount.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Whatever do you mean, Count?" Kara replied innocently, sitting back in her chair.

Volger stared at her for a moment. "You are not from this world," he accused.

"Whatch you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" the girl replied, the reference sounding weird translated into German.

Volger sighed. "This is no time for joking, girl. Even… jokes… that don't make any sense."

Kara shrugged. "You'll get it in sixty-something years," she promised. "At least… I think. It is a seventies show, isn't it? I dunno." **(A/N: Actually, I'm pretty sure it's an eighties show. But I was too lazy to change it, so…yeah)**

If it was possible to look angry and confused at the same time, Count Volger sure did then. He seemed to accept that he wasn't going to get anything out of Kara at the moment, so he stood and growled, "I'm watching you, girl. There's something you're up to."

Volger climbed out of the Stormwalker and Kara sighed.

If she was gonna have to live through a whole book with this guy, she'd have to watch what she said.

* * *

><p>"On guard, if you please."<p>

Alek raised his saber and assumed his guard. Volger walked in a slow circle around him, inspecting Alek's stance for what felt like a solid minute.

"More weight on your back foot," the man finally said. "But otherwise acceptable."

"Whoo! Good job Alek! Keep going, you're doing awesome!" Kara cheered.

Volger turned to her. "What are you doing here? I thought you were helping the men clean up from breakfast."

"Well, I was," Kara replied, staring down at the floor. "But then I kept breaking the plates, so they made me leave."

"We don't have plates," Alek pointed out. "We used blocks of cement."

"Yes. I am aware of this."

"Back foot," Volger reminded, while staring suspiciously at Kara. "And you, keep quiet, girl."

Alek shifted his weight, his muscles already beginning to cramp. Long days in the pilot's cabin had ruined his form. This lesson was going to hurt.

Pain was always Count Volger's objective, of course. When Alek had started his training at ten years old, he'd expected swordplay to be exciting. But his first lessons had consisted of standing motionless like this for hours, with Volger taunting him whenever his outstretched arm began to quiver, and Kara laughing at him from the sidelines.

At least now, at fifteen, he was allowed to cross swords.

Volger took his own guard.

"Slowly at first. I shall call your parries," Volger said, and began to attack, shouting out the names of defensive moves as he lunged. "_Tierce_…_tierce _again. Now _prime_. That's awful, Alek. Your blade's too far down."

Out of the corner of his eye Alek noticed Kara pantomiming his moves and muttering things like, "Take that, Bethany," and "Even after two years, you're terrible," and other nonsensical things. Alek ignored her and shifted his attention back to Volger.

"Two in _tierce_," the count continued. "Now go back covering. Now _quarte_. Simply dreadful. Again…"

The count's attacks continued, but his voice dropped off, relying on Alek (and Kara) to choose their own parries. The swords flashed, and their shuffling feet stirred up dust into the shafts of sunlight lancing in through the barn.

It felt odd fencing in farmer's clothes, without servants standing ready to bring water and towels. Mice scrambled underfoot, and the giant Stormwalker watched over them like some iron god of war. Every few minutes Count Volger called a halt and stared up at the machine, as if hoping to find in its stoic silence the patience to endure Alek's clumsy technique.

Then he would sigh and say, "Again…"

Alek felt his focus sharpening as they fought. Unlike in the fencing salon at home, here there were no mirrors along the wall, and Klopp and the other men were too busy checking over the walker's engines to watch. No distractions, just the clear ring of steel and the shuffle of feet. And Kara's mutterings, but he'd learned to ignore that.

Actually, from what Alek could see, Kara had stopped pantomiming swordplay and was once again cheering him on. Though still her cheers weren't exactly helpful.

"Strike low!"

"Strike high!"

"Faster, Alek!"

"Jump aside!"

"No, the other side!"

"Oh, you almost got him!"

"Halt!" Volger suddenly cried. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I'm cheering him on," Kara replied. "Those are some pretty encouraging words. Plus, I like quoting things."

"Either stay quiet, or stay out of the way," Volger commanded, pointing at the other side of the barn.

Kara looked down and folded her hands respectively. "I'll stay quiet," she mumbled.

Volger sighed and turned back to Alek. "Continue."

As the sparring grew more intense, Alek realized they hadn't put on masks yet. He'd always begged to fight without protection, but his parents had never allowed it.

"Why Serbia?" Volger suddenly asked.

Alek dropped his guard. "Pardon me?"

Volger pushed aside Alek's half-ready parry and landed a touch on his wrist.

"What in blazes?" Alek cried out, rubbing his hands. The sporting saber's edge was dull, but could still bruise when it landed on flesh.

"Do not drop your guard until the other man does, Your Highness. Not in time of war."

"Yeah, Alek, you're such a failure," Kara added.

Volger glared at her. She made a zipping motion over her lips and stopped talking.

"Remember, keep your guard up at all times," Volger repeated, turning back to Alek.

"But you just asked me…," Alek began, then sighed and raised him sword again. "All right. Continue."

The count began with another flurry of blows, pushing Alek backward. By the rules of saber any contact with the opponent's sword ended a legal attack. But Volger was ignoring every parry, using brute strength to gain his ground.

"Why Serbia?" the count repeated, pushing Alek toward the back wall of the barn.

"'Cause everybody hates it," Kara answered. Alek ignored her.

"Because the Serbs are allied with Russia!" he cried.

"Indeed." Volger suddenly ended his attack, turning his back and walking away. "The old alliance of the Slavic peoples."

Alek blinked. Sweat was running into his eyes, and his heart was racing.

Volger took up his stance in the center of the barn. "On guard, sir."

Alek approached warily, his sword up.

Volger attacked again, still ignoring the rules of priority. This wasn't fencing, Alek realized, this was more like… _a sword fight_. He let his concentration narrow, his awareness extending down the length of his saber. Like the Stormwalker, the length of steel became an extension of his body.

"And who is most closely allied with Russia?" Volger asked, not even a little breathless.

"Not us," Kara muttered. **(A/N: I just realized she could've meant Austria-Hungary or America. Interesante)**

"Britain," Alek said.  
>"Not so." Volger's blade slipped inside Alek's guard, whacking his right arm hard.<p>

"Ouch!" Alek dropped his guard and rubbed the wound. "For heaven's sake, Volger! Are you teaching me fencing or diplomacy?"

Volger smiled. "You are in need of instruction in both, obviously."

"But the British navy command met with the Russians last year! Father said it drove the Germans wild with worry."

"That is not an alliance, Alek. Not yet." Volger raised his sword. "So who is allied with Russia, then?"

"France, I suppose." Alek swallowed. "They have a treaty, right?"

"Correct." Volger paused for a moment, sword point tracing a pattern in the air, then frowned. Slowly, he turned to Kara was practically jumping up and down with her hand in the air.

"Yes?" he asked.

Kara lowered her arm, but said nothing, instead staring intently at the count.

Volger sighed. "You may speak."

"Yay! So, if this were a _real _fight, wouldn't you have stabbed Alek by now?" she said, pointing at Alek's unguarded position.

"For once, she is right," Volger said. "Raise your sword, Alek. I won't warn you again; nor shall your enemies."

Alek sighed and took his guard. He felt himself gripping the saber too tightly, and forced his hand to relax. Did Volger think these distractions were useful?

"Focus on my eyes," Volger said. "Not the tip of my sword."

"Speaking of eyes, we aren't wearing masks."

"There are no masks in war."

"There aren't many _sword fights _in war either! Not lately."

Volger raised an eyebrow at the this, and Alek felt a moment of triumph. Two could play at this game of being annoying.

The man lunged, and Alek parried, counterattacking for once. His saber's edge missed Volger's arm by a hair.

He pulled back and covered himself.

"So let us review," Volger said, his sword still flashing. "Austria gets revenge on Serbia. Then what happens?"

"To protect Serbia, Russia declares war on Austria."

As Alek spoke, somehow his mind stayed focused on the play of sabers. It was strangely clarifying, wearing no mask. He'd met German officers from the military schools where protection was considered cowardly. Scars stretched across their faces like cruel smiles.

"And then?" Volger said.

"Germany protects Clanker honor by declaring war on Russia."

Volger lunged at Alek's knees, an illegal target. "And then?"

"France makes good its treaty with Russia, and declares war on Germany."

"And then?"

"Who knows?" Alek shouted, thrashing at Volger's saber. He'd lost his footing, he realized- too much of his body was exposed. He turned to correct it. "Britain finds her way in somehow. Darwinists against Clankers."

Volger lunged forward and his saber spun, wrapping around Alek's like a snake and yanking it from his grasp. Metal flashed as the sword soared across the barn, burying itself in the half-rotten wall with a _thunk_.

The wildcount stepped forward and held his saber at Alek's throat.

"And what can we conclude form this lesson, Your Highness?"

"That Alek can't swordfight while talking at the same time," Kara replied helpfully.

"Like you would do any better?" Alek challenged.

"Yes, I would, actually."

Kara grabbed Alek's saber and took her guard against Volger.

The count raised an eyebrow in surprise, but nevertheless took his own stance.

Kara lunged. "So, what do _you _think we can conclude from your lesson, Alek?" she asked as her strike was parried by Volger's.

Alek glared at the two of them. "We can conclude that discussing politics while fencing is idiotic."

Volger smiled as he blocked another one of Kara's attacks, but it was the girl who spoke. "For most people, perhaps," Kara said dramatically, as if quoting something. "But some of us are born without the choice. The game of nations is your birthright, Alek. Politics is part of everything you do." Volger thrust his sword forward angrily, since she had stolen his lesson to the prince, and Kara carelessly brushed it aside, then carelessly slashed at his knees, making him jump backwards.

Alek sighed and crossed his arms. Without a sword in his hand he suddenly felt numb and exhausted, and he didn't have the strength to argue against the obvious. His birth had shaken the Austro-Hungarian throne, and now his parents' death had unsettled the delicate balance of Europe.

"So this war is my responsibility," he said bitterly.

"Yep," Kara replied as she pushed Volger towards the other end of the barn. She was slashing wildly, not using any sort of technique, but Volger was failing miserably against her, just barely blocking her attacks before her sword touched his skin.

"No, Alek," Volger contradicted, finally getting in a slash at Kara's legs, which she easily jumped over and jabbed at his heart. The count stepped back quickly, then continued talking. "The Clanker and Darwinist powers would have found a way to fight, sooner or later. But perhaps you can still make your mark."

"How?" Alek asked.

The wildcount did a strange thing then. He dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender just as Kara raised her sword to attack.

The girl grinned in triumph, while Volger glared at her in an interested kind of way. Kara thrust out her sword sideways for Alek to take and ended up knocking him over with it.

Volger rolled his eyes and stepped forward as Alek stood and snatched the saber out of Kara's hand.

"How can I 'make my mark'?" Alek repeated.

Volger sighed and put one hand on Alek's shoulder.

"We shall see, Alek. We shall see."

"Young master?" Klopp called. "If you could help ready the walker?"

"Yes, of course!" Alek handed his sword to Volger and gestured for Kara to come with him.

"I'll help the count with the swords," she said.

Although Volger didn't look very happy with that, Alek nodded and went off to join the other men.

From behind him, he heard the clinking sounds of falling swords and Volger's interesting words saved for Kara.

Alek sighed. It was going to be a long war.

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><p><strong>AN: END OF NOTEBOOK ONE! Bramblepool and I are way ahead in this story in our notebooks than we are posted and this chapter was the end of the first of my four notebooks strung together for this story. I hope you enjoy.**

**There were oh so many references in this chapter. Whoever can guess the most of them (my real-life friends don't count) gets a preview of the next chapter. **

**Please review! Next chapter, Abyssia makes a visit!**


	10. Chapter 10 Alek & Kara

**A/N: Hola, peoples! I was gonna wait for a few more reviews before I updated, but Bramplepool threatened to not write any more unless I posted. So, here I am! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Note to anon: Kara is pronounced like care-uh, not Kah-ruh. **

**Anyway, here's chapter ten! Please enjoy and review!**

**Warning: Semi-serious scene coming up. Just wanted to let you know. But the hilarity shall return, don't worry.**

**ACTUALLY SERIOUS WARNING: For my dear friends Annie and Cat, and any others who are reading this before they finished the series, there are some minor Goliath spoilers in this chapter. I'll put an a/n right before the paragraph that has spoilers, and you can just skip it.**

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><p>Chapter Ten<p>

After Volger had forbidden her from ever touching his swords again, Kara retreated to sit in a corner of the barn and think.

_Volger's probably just annoyed, _she though. _'Cause he lost our swordfight, and all._

"You're probably right, Regina," a voice suddenly said.

Kara jumped; then calmed when she saw the (sort of) familiar face.

"Hi hi Abyssia!" she greeted the woman. "How's 2011?" **(A/N: Note- I wrote this chapter back when it was still 2011, and I'm too lazy to change it, so…yeah)**

Abyssia shrugged. "President Sheen hasn't brought us into World War III yet, so I'd say pretty good. Wait, or was that 2013?"

Kara was confused. She'd figured out that Abyssia was probably a time traveler, and possibly an alien, but her reference to the future didn't make any sense. Unless Emilio Estevez changed his name to match his brother's, Kara highly doubted that there would be a Sheen as a president any time soon.

She decided to ignore it and see what happened in two years (once she returned to the present, of course; she more-or-less knew what happened in 1916).

"I saved Alek," Kara said.

"Yes, I can see that." Abyssia gestured to Alek at the other side of the barn. "And as far as I know, our dear friend Bethany has succeeded in preventing the death of Deryn Sharp as well."

"Coolio." Kara sighed. "Bethany must be having fun."

"And you're not?" Abyssia asked.

Kara pulled her legs in close and hugged her knees.

"We're not really doing much," she explained. "We get stalked by Germans, we fun. Germans, run. Germans, run. When we get to Lienz, it'll be Alek acting like an idiot, Germans, Alek's a murderer, run. It's just kinda the same thing over and over again. Nothing exciting happens until he meets Deryn."

"Well, why don't you make something exciting happen?" Abyssia suggested. "Nothing good will ever happen unless you do something about it."

Kara looked up at her. "You sound like my mother," she commented.

Abyssia rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you're doing pretty well, so I'd better be going. Alek will need to talk to you soon."

"Wait!" Kara cried. "Two questions first."

Abyssia sighed. "Ask away."

"First, are you a Time Lord?" she asked.

"No."

"Darn it. Fine. Second, you never told us who's trying to kill Alek and Deryn."

Abyssia stared at Kara, her abyss-eyes boring into the girl's soul. Then, finally, she replied, "That's not a question," snapped her fingers, and disappeared.

"What?" Kara shouted. "You can't do that! You can't just disappear dramatically! That's so not fair! Come on, get back here!"

"Um…Kara?"  
>Kara looked up at Alek who was standing over her.<p>

"Si bueno?" she said in greeting. **(A/N: That's a reference to my BFFL, Da. Shout-out to her awesomeness)**

"Who were you talking to?" Alek asked.

Without even thinking about it, the words came out of Kara's mouth. "My imaginary boyfriend, Petie- spelled with an 'ie'—" she turned her voice to a whisper—"He hates it when people spell his name with a 'y'."

"Um….okay then," Alek said. "Anyway, uh, Master Klopp wants your help with something. He's probably gonna make you fix our plates."

"Kay kay," Kara replied. "Tell him I'll be right there. I just need a quick sec to explain to Petie the concept of engagement rings."

Alek nodded slowly, then backed away. Kara grinned at him and waved goodbye.

Once Alek was out of earshot, Kara sighed.

Sometimes she thought lying came _too _easily.

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><p>Alek eased the saunters sideways and felt the Stormwalker's right foot shift.<p>

"That's it," Otto Klopp said. "Slowly now."

Alek nudged the controls again, and the walker slid a little farther. It was frustrating, maneuvering in tight quarters like this. One bump of the walker's shoulder could send the whole rotten barn crashing down around them. And Kara wasn't helping, calling out "tips" that just made Alek more distracted and frustrated. At least the trembling gauges and levers had begun to make sense. A little more pressure in the knees might help….

With another nudge he'd done it—the viewport was lined up with a ragged gap in the wall of the barn. The late afternoon sun shone into the cabin, the fields stretching out before them. A harvesting combine rumbled along on twelve legs in the distance, a dozen farmers and a four-legged truck following to collect the bundled grain.

Count Volger put a hand on Alek's shoulder. "Wait till they're out of sight."

"Well, obviously," Alek said. With his bruises still throbbing, he'd had enough of Volger's counsel for one day.

The combine made its slow way across the field, finally disappearing behind a low hill. A few workmen straggled behind, black dots on the horizon. Alek soon lost them in the distance, but waited.

Finally Bauer's voice crackled on the intercom, "That's the last one gone, sir."

Corporal Bauer had the uncanny eyesight of an expert gunner. Two weeks ago he'd been on his way to commanding a machine of his own. Master Hoffman had been the Hapsburg Guards' best engineer. But now the two were nothing more than fugitives.

Alek had slowly come to understand everything his men had given up for him: their ranks, families, and futures. If they were caught, the other four would hang as deserters. Prince Aleksandar himself would disappear more quietly, of course, for the good of the empire. The last thing a nation at war needed was uncertainty about who was heir to the throne.

He eased the Stormwalker toward the barn's open doors, using the shuffling step that Klopp had taught him. It erased the massive machine's footprints, along with any other signs that someone had hidden here.

"Baby steps, Alek," Kara warned. "No, those are toddler steps. Actually, babies don't _have _steps, so it _should _be toddler steps. But either way, those are more like 7-year-old steps. And they're officially not toddlers."

Alek gripped the saunters harder. Kara was infuriating.

"Ignore her, Aleksandar," Volger said softly.

"Ready for your first run, young master?" Klopp asked.

Alek nodded, flexing his fingers. He was nervous, but glad to be piloting in daylight for once, instead of the dead of night.

And really, walker falls weren't so bad. They'd all be bruised and battered, but Master Klopp could get the machine back on its feet again.

As the engines pulsed faster, the smell of their exhaust mixed with dust and hay. Alek eased the machine forward, wood creaking as the walker pushed through the doors and out into the fresh air.

"Smoothly done, young master!" Klopp said.

"It was meh," Kara commented.

There was no time to answer. They were in the open now. Alek brought the Stormwalker to its full height, its engines cycling to their maximum. He urged it forward, stretching the metal legs farther with every step. Then came the moment when walking turned to running: both feet in the air at once, the cabin shuddering with every impact against the ground.

Alek heard rye being shredded underfoot. The Stormwalker's trail would be easy to spot from an aeroplane, but by night the harvesting combine would turn back and erase the huge footsteps.

He kept his eyes on the goal, a streambed covered with sheltering trees.

This was the fastest he had ever traveled, faster than any horse, even faster than the express train to Berlin. Each ten-meter stride seemed to stretch out over endless seconds, graceful in the vast scale of the machine. The thundering pace felt glorious after long nights spent creeping through the forest.

But as the streambed approached, Alek wondered if the walker was moving _too _fast.

"Don't die, Alek," Kara cautioned.

How was he supposed to bring them to a halt?

"Don't die, Alek!" Kara repeated, more forcefully this time.

He eased back on the saunters a bit- and suddenly everything went wrong. The right foot planted too soon…and the machine began to tip forward.

"What part of 'don't die' do you not understand, Alek?" Kara demanded.

Alek brought the left leg down, but the walker's momentum carried it forward. He was forced to take another step, like a careening drunk, unable to stop.

"Young master—" Otto began.

"Take it!" Alek shouted.

Klopp seized the saunters and twisted the walker, stretching one leg out, tipping the whole craft back. The pilot's chair spun and Volger swung wildly from the hand straps overhead, but somehow Klopp stayed glued to the controls.

The Stormwalker skidded onward, one leg outstretched, its front foot ripping through soil and stalks of rye. Dust spilled into the cabin, and Alek glimpsed the streambed hurtling toward them.

"We're gonna die!" Kara screamed, covering her face with her hands.

Gradually the machine slowed, a last bit of momentum lifting it upright…and then it was standing on two legs, hidden among the trees, its huge feet soaking in the stream.

"Yay! We didn't die!" Kara cheered.

Alek watched dust and torn rye swirl across the viewport. A moment later his hands began to shake.

"Well done, young master!" Klopp said, clapping him on the back.

"But I almost fell!"

"Of course you did!" Klopp laughed. "Everyone falls the first time they try to run."

"Everyone _what_?"

"Everyone falls. But you did the right thing and let me take the controls in time."

Volger flicked sprigs of rye from his jacket. "It seems that humility was the rather tiresome point of today's lesson. Along with making sure we look like proper commoners."

"_Humility_?" Alek bunched his fists. "You mean you knew I would fall?"

"Am I the only one who thinks Alek looks hilariously cute when he's angry?" Kara commented. They all ignored her.

"Of course we knew," Klopp said. "As I said, everyone does at first. But you gave up the saunters in time. That's a lesson too!"

Alek scowled. Klopp was positively beaming at him, as if Alek had just mastered a somersault in a six-legged cutter. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or give the man a good thrashing.

He settled for coughing some of the dust out of his lungs, then taking back the controls. The Stormwalker responded normally. It seemed nothing more important than his pride had been damaged.

"You did better than I expected," Klopp said. "Especially with how top-heavy we are."

"Top-heavy?" Alek asked.

"Ah, well." Klopp looked at Volger sheepishly. "I suppose not really."

"Mad skills, Klopp," Kara muttered. "You're a worse liar than Alek. And that's saying something."

Count Volger sighed. "Go ahead, Klopp. If we're going to be teaching His Highness walker acrobatics, I suppose it might help to show him the extra cargo."

Klopp nodded, a wicked smile on his face. He pulled himself from the commander's seat and knelt by a small engineering panel in the floor.

"Yay!" Kara shouted. "Volger and Klopp brought us our Christmas presents!"

Alek stared at her. "We're in the middle of July," he reminded her.

"_So_?" she replied. "It could be an _early_ Christmas. _Duh._"

Alek sighed, overly annoyed and slightly confused.

"Anyway," Klopp said. "Give me a hand, young master?"

A little curious now, Alek knelt beside him, and together they loosened the hand screws. The panel popped up, and Alek blinked—instead of wires and gears, the opening revealed neat rectangles of dully shining metal, each monogrammed with the Hapsburg seal.

"Are those…?"

"Gold bars," Klopp said happily. "A dozen of them. Almost a quart of a ton in all!"

"God's wounds," Alek breathed.

"The contents of your father's personal safe," Count Volger said. "Entrusted to us as part of your inheritance. We won't lack for money."

"I suppose not." Alek sat back. "So this is your little secret, Count? I must admit I'm impressed."

"This is merely an afterthought." Volger waved a hand, and Klopp began to seal the panel back up. "The real secret is in Switzerland."

"A quarter ton of gold, an _afterthought_?" Alek looked up at the man. "Are you serious?"

Count Volger raised an eyebrow. "I am always serious. Shall we go?"

**(A/N: Goliath spoilers next; I'll tell you when they're over)**

"Wait!" Kara suddenly cried. They all looked at her. Her eyes closed and forefingers pressed to her temples, she said mysteriously, "I have made a prediction of the future." Kara paused dramatically to make sure they were all listening, then continued. "You will have less than a half of one gold bar by the end of December."

Volger snorted. "_That's _not likely," he muttered.

Kara ignored him and kept talking. "Also, at least half of those twelve bars will be thrown out the window of a Darwinist airship."

Alek and his men all stared at her, obviously not believing her claims.

"Now you're just making things up," Volger muttered.

"Wasn't I always making things up?" she asked. "Isn't that the whole point of psychic predictions? That's pretty much what Shawn does. But seriously, that stuff is really gonna happen. I can even prove it to you, _in_ about…138 pages."

Now this obviously made absolutely no sense, since no person in their right mind measured time in pages, but no one could say Kara was in her right mind, so they just ignored her.

**(A/N: Spoilers are done. Continue reading, friends)**

Alek pulled himself back up into the pilot's chair, wondering what other surprises the wildcount would later have waiting.

Alek started them down the streambed toward Lienz, the nearest city with any mechanikal industry. The walker desperately needed kerosene and parts, and with a dozen gold bars, they could buy the whole town if need be. The trick was not giving themselves away. A Cyklop Stormwalker was a fairly conspicuous way to travel.

Alek kept the machine in the trees along the stream bank. With the afternoon light already fading, they could steal close enough to reach the city on foot tomorrow.

It was strange to think that in the morning, for the first time in two weeks, Alek would see other people. Not just these four men (and Kara) but an entire town of commoners, none of whom would realize that a prince was walking among them.

He coughed again, and looked down at his dusty disguise of farmer's clothes. Volger had been right—he was as filthy as a peasant now. No one would think he was anything special. Certainly not a boy with a vast fortune in gold.

Klopp beside him was equally grubby, but still wore a pleased smile on his face.

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><p>"NEW YORK, NEW YORK, IT'S A HECK OF A TOWN! THE BRONX IS UP AND THE BATTERY'S DOWN! THE PEOPLE RIDE IN A HOLE IN THE GROUND. NEW YORK, NEW YORK! IT'S A HECK OF A TOWN!"<p>

Kara sang at the top of her lungs as the Stormwalker made its way towards the wonderful city that no one's heard of, Lienz.

She didn't really think she was that great a singer, but she was trying her best to annoy the men, just to see what would happen. She had a strong feeling that Bethany—or… Apocalypsia—was doing the same to Newkirk at the least, if not Mr. Rigby as well. She was probably giving the bosun a new name that was most likely an over-used palindrome that annoyed the heck out of him, and was "talking" to different beasties and threatening for them to eat middy Newkirk.

"Second, verse, same as the first!" Kara shouted, then sang again. "NEW YORK, NEW YORK, IT'S A HECK OF A TOWN! THE BRONX IS UP AND THE BATTERY'S DOWN! THE PEOPLE RIDE IN A HOLE IN THE GROUND. NEW YORK, NEW YORK! IT'S A HECK OF A TOWN!"

Kara could tell that the Austrian fugitives were completely ignoring her (she even saw that Volger and Klopp's ears were plugged), so she took a deep breath and prepared to sing louder, but suddenly she heard slow sarcastic clapping coming from behind her.

"Bravo…Bravo…Let's bring her to Broadway…" a voice said, dripping with sarcasm.

"Hi hi Abyssia," Kara greeted the alien as she realized who it was.

Noticing that she was no longer singing, Alek turned to her, looking confused. "Who are you talking to?" he asked.

Kara frowned. "Abyssia," she replied, moving out of the way to make sure he saw her.

Alek nodded slowly. "Right…Great….Is that another one of your imaginary friends?"

Kara, overly confused, glanced back and forth between Alek's _you're insane_ look and Abyssia's annoyingly amused one.

"No, Abyssia's the lady right there," she told Alek, pointing. "The one with the creepily yellow hair and the even creepier dark black eyes."

Abyssia was apparently insulted by this description, because she stepped forward and slapped Kara across the face, making the girl cry out in pain.

"What? What's wrong?" Alek asked, sounding worried now.

"She just hit me!" Kara exclaimed, glaring at Abyssia.

"Who did?" Alek clarified, now confused again.

"Abyssia!"

"Right…" Alek took Kara's arm and led her to the corner of the cabin. "Here, Kara, I think the day's stressed you out a bit. Why don't you sit down for a minute and rest?"

Kara was appalled. Alek actually thought she was insane! What was wrong with him?

"No! I'm not crazy!" she exclaimed, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. "There is an alien lady, _right_ there; possibly a Time Lord, but she denies this fact; _she's_ the one who brought me here, _and _my best friend, because we're secretly from America in the future, and Abyssia here used her mind-altering device to make you think you knew me but you don't! You have to believe me! See? Look!" Kara grabbed Abyssia's arm and pulled her over to Alek. "This is Abyssia's arm; the same arm that she just _hit _me with!" Kara waved Abyssia's arm in front of Alek's face.

"No," Alek contradicted. "That's _your _arm holding a bunch of air."

Kara clenched her fists, seething. "Why can't he see you?" she asked Abyssia.

"Because she's not really there," Alek tried to tell her.

"Shut up, you," she commanded the prince, then repeated the question to the alien.

"Because I don't want him to," Abyssia replied.

"Well, then make him see you so he knows I'm not crazy!" Kara demanded.

Abyssia smirked at her, then glanced at her wrist as if looking at a watch.

"Oh, look at the time!" she said. "Time to see Bethany!"

And with a snap of her fingers, Abyssia disappeared.

Kara cried out in frustration. Alek patted her arm comfortingly and forced her down onto the cabin floor.

"Stupid Time Lords," Kara grumbled. "The Doctor, I'm sure, isn't _nearly_ this difficult."

Alek just nodded, pretending to understand.

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter was a lot longer than I remember it being. Anyway, hope you liked it. Please review! And Bramblepool, if you're reading this, I UPDATED! SO WRITE MORE SO I CAN MAKE ALEK COMMIT SUICIDE! See you next time everyone! And happy summer! :) **


	11. Deryn and Apocalypsia

**CPG A/N: Hey guys. Remember this fic? Don't worry, neither do we. I blame Bramblepool. Here's some words from her.**

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><p><strong>Bram AN: Heeeeeey, everyone. I kind of suck, don't I? It's been what, two, three years since we updated? Anyway, know that this somewhat overdue update is entirely my fault and CPG is amazing and fantabulous. Also, since it has been like 2 and half-three years, my writing has changed quite a bit. I tried not to change Apocalypsia too much, but it's hard for me to tell. So, yeah, if you're still here, I suck, this is my fault, Apocalypsia prolly seems different and thanks for sticking around!**

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><p><strong>CPG AN: So yeah, here's the chapter I've been asking Bram for for a year and a half. Hope you guys like it, we'll try to update soon (though the next one's also Bram's chapter so no promises :P) and hopefully you guys haven't given up on us.**

**Disclaimer: We own nothing except Kara and Apocalypsia and all those weirdo OCs.**

**Please review!**

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><p>Chapter Eleven<p>

Apocalypsia Pandemonium sighed softly as she watched the ground hurtle by at a break-neck pace. A flutter kicked in her stomach. What would it be like to hit that ground? Painful probably. Unless…yeah, it would be painful. She shivered, not liking that rather painful place her thoughts had gone and began to entertain herself by mentally dropping kumquats off the top of the Empire State Building.

The bitter smell of ozone made her look up from her mental fruit massacre. Golden fingers of lighting darted about the dark ominous clouds that loomed in the distance. With a frown, Apocalypsia realized that she should probably be in a bit more of a panic about this, considering the whole "lightning is the natural enemy of an airbeast" thing.

This in mind, she dropped one last kumquat and watched in fly downwards until it hit the ground with an entirely satisfying splatter.

When she looked up again, she saw that the dangerous clouds were beginning to part, revealing a clear blue sky. A moment later, Apocalypsia realized something about her current state. "Hey! When'd I get all wet?"

"You've been wet this entire _time_, you useless ninny," Deryn replied drily.

Apocalypsia looked at Deryn then smirked. "Well, Miss Smarty-Pants, bet you didn't realize that _you're _just as wet as _me! _Ha!"

"Of course I know I'm soaked," Deryn scoffed.

"Yeah?" Apocalypsia slipped off her boots, wringing some of the water out of them. "Well now I'm dry."

"No, only your boots are…"

"DON'T YOU USE YOUR SCHMANCY LOGIC ON ME, _MR. _SHARP!"

"But—"

Apocalypsia cut Deryn off. "NOW, WHAT DID I TELL YOU!?"

Deryn frowned. "Well, you said—"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOURE DIONG TALKING BACK AT ME _MR. _SHARP?"

"But you asked me—"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Apocalypsia shrieked.

"What're you—"

"DO NOT MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF, _MR. _SHARP!"

"Okay! Fine!" Deryn squeaked, just wanting Apocalypsia to stop yelling at her.

"Good," Apocalypsia replied, a smug smirk on her face. Worked every time.

Deryn frowned. "Wait, what just happened?"

"You were working on talking that beastie of yours down."

"Are you sure—"

"Yup!" Apocalypsia chirped. "Just continue."

"Oh. Alright then. Oi!" Deryn shouted. "You there!"

Apocalypsia chuckled to herself. This was going to be fun.

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><p>"Beastie! I'm <em>talking to you!" <em>cried Deryn at the Huxley above her.

No reaction.

Deryn scowled. An hour ago the Huxley had been so _easy _to spook! Perhaps one annoyed lassie's cries didn't amount to much after the terrific storm.

"You're a big bloated bum-rag!" She shouted, swinging her feet to rock the pilot's rig. "And I'm getting bored of your company!"

She heard Apocalypsia sniff. "Well. I see how it is. I thought we were friends, but that's cool too, I guess, you over-inflated eggplant."

Deryn sighed, tipping her head back to stare exasperated at the beastie above her. "I was talking to the Huxley, you daftie."

"Oh. Well, maybe _I _was talking to _mine."_

"Right. Of course you were."

Passing through another patch of sun, the Medusa made a soft sighing noise, expanding its airbag to dry itself.

Deryn felt herself drifting higher, and a quick glance showed that the other Huxley was following along.

She groaned, looking at the blue skies ahead. She could see all the way to the farm lands on Surrey now. And past that would be the English channel.

For two long years, Deryn had wanted nothing more than to go aloft again, like when Da had been alive—and here she was, marooned in the sky, with a girl no smarter than the beast that was marooning her. Maybe this was a punishment for acting like a boy, like her mum had always warned.

The wind steadied, pushing the beast towards France.

It was going to be a long day.

The words "Staple," "Billy," and "flaming street sign" drifted to Deryn's ears. It seemed Apocalypsia was having another argument with her Huxley.

It was going to be a _very _long day.

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><p>Deryn's Huxley noticed it first.<p>

The pilots rig jolted under Deryn, like a carriage going over a pothole. Shaken from a catnap, she glanced over at Apocalypsia, who was waving her arms in circular motions, humming an extremely discordant tune.

"I'm going to die of dehydration," Deryn croaked. Her lips were parched and her bum was very, very sore.

"You do that. I think I'll decline though," Apocalypsia said thoughtfully. "That sounds a little unpleasant."

"I don't suppose you've got anything for dehydration in that backpack of yours?"

Apocalypsia scoffed. "Don't be silly. That would be logical, and you know how I detest logic."

"Brilliant," Deryn groaned.

"Oh, hey look, a whale!"

Deryn rolled her eyes. "Oh, and look, there's a crumpet too! All we need is some tea and we can have a tea party with it!"

Then she saw the tentacles curling around her.

"What is it now?" She moaned, though she'd have welcomed a flock of birds attacking them, as long as it brought the beastie down. A bumpy landing was better than hanging there till she died of thirst.

Deryn scanned the horizon and saw nothing. But she felt a trembling in the leather cords of her pilot's rig and heard the thrum of engines in the air.

Her eyes widened.

A huge airbeast was emerging from the gray clouds behind her, its reflective silver topside glistening in the sunlight.

"Really? You wanna have a tea party with it? I didn't think you really liked stuff like that, but that would be fun!"

The thing was gigantic—larger than St. Paul's Cathedral, longer than the ocean going dreadnought _Orion _that she'd seen in the Thames the week before. The shining cylinder was shaped like a zeppelin, but its flanks pulsed with the motion of its cilia, and the air around it swarmed with symbiotic bats and birds.

The medusa made an unhappy whistling sound.

"No, beastie! Don't fret!" She called softly. "They're here to help!"

At least Deryn assumed they were. But she hadn't expected anything so _big _to come hunting her down.

Apocalypsia chuckled darkly. "Are they really, _Mr. _Sharp? Are they really?"

The airship drew closer, until Deryn could make out the gondola suspended from the beastie's belly. The foot-tall letters under the bridge windows came slowly into focus…_Leviathan._

She swallowed. "And barking famous these friends are."

The _Leviathan _had been the first great hydrogen breather fabricated to rival the Kaiser's Zeppelins. A few beasties had grown larger since, but no other had yet made the trip to India and back, breaking German airship records all the way.

The _Leviathan_'s body was made from the life threads of a whale, but a hundred other species were tangled into its design. Countless creatures fitting together like the gears of a stopwatch. Flocks of fabricated birds swarmed around it, scouts, fighters, and predators to gather the food. Deryn saw message lizards and other beasties scampering across its skin.

So, in one way or another, Apocalypsia was somehow right. It was a giant whale.

According to her aerology manual, the big hydrogen breathers were modeled on the tiny South American islands where Darwin had made his famous discoveries. The _Leviathan_ wasn't one beastie, but a vast web of life, in ever shifting balance.

The motivator engines changed pitch, nudging the creature's nose up. The airbeast obeyed, the cilia along its flanks undulating like a sea of grass in the wind. A host of tiny oars rowing backwards, slowing the _Leviathan_ almost to a halt.

"Daaaaaang," Apocalypsia observed. "This is one heck of a whale."

The huge shape drifted slowly overhead, blotting out the sky. Its belly was all mottled grays, camouflage for night raids.

In the sudden coolness of the huge shadow, Deryn shivered.

Deryn stared up spellbound. This vast, fantastic creature had come to rescue _her. _Well, technically, Apocalypsia was being rescued too, but Deryn was sure that the ninny of the girl wasn't their primary reason.

The Huxleys shuddered again, wondering where the sun had gone.

"Hush, beastie, it's nothing but your big cousin!"

"I would probably call it more like an uncle or something," Apocalypsia mused. "Or maybe great uncle."

Deryn heard calls from above, and she saw movement. A rope tumbled into view, unrolling past her. Another followed, then a dozen more, until Deryn and Apocalypsia were surrounded by an upside-down forest of swaying ropes. She stretched out for one, but the width of the airbeast's bas bag kept the rope out of reach. Deryn swung the pilot's rig to get closer. Her motion made the Huxley's tentacles curl up tight, resulting in a sickening jolt downwards.

"Wheeee!" Apocalypsia cried gleefully as her Huxley jolted down as well. "It's like a roller coaster!"

Deryn frowned in confusion. "What's that?"

"Erm…Look! Stuff's happening!"

The airship's engines changed pith again, and the dangling lines reappeared, still out of reach. But then, the engines overhead set up a grinding pattern, on, off, on, off, and the ropes began to sway in rhythm with the sound.

That was one clever pilot up there. The ropes swung closer with every pulse of the engines. Deryn stretched out one arm as far as she could. Finally, her reaching fingers caught hold. She pulled the rope in, knotting it to the ring over her rig, next to Apocalypsia's then frowned. Were they going to hoist them into the gondola? Wouldn't that flip the beasties upside-down?

But the line stayed slack, and a few moments later, a message lizard made its way down. Its tiny webbed hands cupped the rope, as if it were a thin tree branch. The lizard's bright green skin seemed to glow in the shadows below the airship. It spoke with a posh accent, the deep voice uncanny coming from such a wee body.

"Mr. Sharp, I assume?"

The lizard let out a throaty chuckle.

"Hey!" Apocalypsia cried, indignant. "I'm here too!"

Gobsmacked as she was, Deryn almost answered. Of course, the message lizard was only repeating what one of the officers overhead had said to him.

"Greetings from the _Leviathan_," it continued. "Our apologies for the delay. Bad weather and all that."

It made a noise like a man clearing his throat, and Deryn half expected the lizard to raise a tiny fist to its mouth.

"But here we are at last. We'll be taking you in on the dorsal side, of course. Standard procedure."

The lizard paused and Deryn pondered what "dorsal" meant.

"Ah, yes. I'm told you're just a sprog. Well done getting lost on your first flight."

Deryn rolled her eyes. First a bag of gas and insect guts had carted her halfway across England, and now she was getting cheek from a barking lizard.

"I expect you don't know standard procedure. Well, it's quite simple, really. We'll drop below you, then bring you in with a dorsal winch. Any questions?"

The message lizard stared up at her expectantly, blinking its wee black eyes.

"No questions, sir. I'm ready." Deryn said, remembering to use her boy voice.

"Excuse me," Apocalypsia interrupted. "But my name is Apocalypsia Pandemonium, and I just wanted to let you know that I exist. Thank you, end message."

The lizard then scampered back up the rope to repeat their words to whoever was at the other end.

A minute later, the other ropes were all hoisted away, but the line attached to her pilot's rig was given more slack. It looped down almost out of sight, a quarter of a mile of rope, it looked like. Then the airship's idling engines sprang to life again.

The huge shadow pulled back against the wind, to that the sun broke out from behind its nose, blinding Deryn. The airship dropped then, venting hydrogen with a sound like rushing water, steadily descending till the officers in the bridge windows were dead even with her, only twenty yards away.

One smiled and gave a crisp salute, and Deryn returned it. Apocalypsia meanwhile, gave them a bitter glare, sticking her tongue out to show her annoyance.

The _Leviathan_ dropped still farther, and the Huxleys whined a bit when one huge eye drew level with them.

"Don't you give me any more bother," Deryn murmured.

Apocalypsia was staring hard at the massive eyeball, eyes wide with wonder, previous transgressions forgotten. "Whoaaaaaaa…it's a whale eyeball…a _flying _whale eyeball…that's even better…"

When the _Leviathan_'s silver expanse slipped beneath her, Deryn saw that the other end of her rope was now attached to a winch on the creature's spine.

So "dorsal" was just service-speak for "backside."

The winch was small and aluminum, made as light as possible, like everything on an airship. Two men cranked it in, drawing up the slack quickly enough. Soon, Deryn, Apocalypsia, and their Huxleys were descending towards the _Leviathan_'s silvery back.

A few minutes later, a half dozen crewmen grabbed the tentacles of the medusas and hauled them down. Deryn found herself released from the pilot's rig and she stumbled and fell, causing the flank to make a most satisfying "whump" sound.

"Jeez, _Mr. _Sharp, Apocalypsia drawled. "Graceful."

Deryn felt her face redden slightly with humiliation.

Another similar sound showed that the girl had probably just done the same thing as Deryn. A weak "I meant to do that," floated into Deryn's ears from Apocalypsia's direction.

Deryn tried to stand up straight, but pain shot down her spine. She wriggled her toes in Jaspert's boots, trying to erase the pins and needles in her toes.

"Thank you, sir," she managed to the nearest man.

"Long flight, eh?" he said.

"You have _no _idea," Apocalypsia groaned, while Deryn returned with a salute.

The man was smiling at least. All the crewmen looked rather jolly as they checked over the medusas. Deryn supposed it wasn't often they were called upon to rescue recruits from the sky.

A man in a coxswain's uniform clapped her on the back.

"Your Huxleys are in pretty good condition after a storm like that. Except the one of them that's got that bullet hole. How'd that come about?"

Deryn frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but Apocalypsia cut her off. "That, sir, is top secret."

"Really, lassie?"

"Yup!" Apocalypsia chirped confidently.

The men were running the Huxleys back up, towing them in the _Leviathan_'s wake.

"Not many middies—and civilians—spend their first day aloft," The officer said.

"Not a middy exactly sir. I haven't taken the test yet." Deryn glanced longingly around the topside, praying they would let her explore the ship before they took her back to the scrubs. She'd be ready to walk again in a few minutes, and that would certainly work to distract Apocalypsia from breaking anything and everything.

The coxswain laughed.

"Solving a few aeronautics problems shouldn't be too hard after free ballooning in a Huxley. And with trouble brewing, I expect the service will be looking for a few more lads."

Deryn frowned.

"Trouble, sir?"

The officer nodded.

"Ah, yes I suppose you wouldn't have heard. Some Austrian Duke and Duchess have gotten themselves killed last night. There may be a bit of a ruckus on the continent." **((A/N: Understatement of the century.))**

She blinked.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand."

The officer shrugged.

"Not sure what it's got to do with Britain myself, but we've been put on alert. Now that we've got you sorted, we're headed straight over to France, in case the clankers try to start something."

He smiled.

"I expect you and your friend'll be with us for a few days. Hope that's not a bother."

Deryn's eyes widened. As sensation returned to her legs, she could feel the rumble of the engines in the airbeast's skin.

From the spine of the _Leviathan_, its silver flank sloping away into oblivion, the sky was huge in all directions.

A few _days _the man had said. A hundred more hours in this perfect sky?

Deryn saluted again, trying to hide her grin.

"No sir, no trouble at all."

Apocalypsia followed Deryn rather dejectedly, as she was shown around the ship by one of the officers. She could now locate the middie's mess and the middie's cabins. Theoretically. A thought popped into her head, so she spoke to their guide. "Hey, Mister Dude, where am I supposed to sleep?"

The man turned about, looking surprised that she was even there. "Oh, um…" he frowned, thinking. "Well, I suppose you would stay in the cargo bay. That is usually where we keep…um…" he coughed. "Extra luggage."

As Deryn stifled laughter, Apocalypsia stopped dead. "Wow. I feel insulted. You know, I thought you were a pretty cool dude," she huffed. "But apparent ally not."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Apocalypsia silenced him with a glare. "Don't even bother. I'm going to bed now. Good night. I don't love you two cuz you're meanie heads." She then turned on her heel, marching off.

After a few moments, she turned around. "Actually, how do I get to the cargo bay?"

"Second hallway on your left, two flights of stairs down, first door on your left," the man replied.

Apocalypsia nodded firmly, then took off, knowing already she was going to get lost.

* * *

><p>Approximately 6.34 hours later, Apocalypsia found herself at last in the cargo bay, surrounded by various sketchy boxes and crates. She dropped her backpack on the floor with a solid "clunk" and took a better look around. "Home sweet home," she murmured sarcastically.<p>

After deciding to save renovations for the next morning, she dropped to the floor, almost immediately passing out asleep.

* * *

><p>Apocalypsia woke up at four in the morning to a blinding flash.<p>

She sat bolt upright, eyes flicking about as they adjusted to the heavy darkness that filled the air. She was able to see a girl with long, blonde hair and eyes more black and empty than a cloudless night sky.

"Joe!" She cried happily.

Joe sighed deeply. "My name is not Joe, you imbecile."

"Suuuuuuure, Joe."

"Anyway," she breathed, "I came to tell you that you surprisingly did a pretty good job keeping Deryn alive yesterday."

"I really did, didn't I? Anywho, why, if Der-chan's alive and well right now, am I still on this giant flying whale?"

"Because Koscher—I mean someone is probably going to try to kill her again."

"Wait," Apocalypsia narrowed her eyes. "Who's Koscher-I-mean?"

"Look, unicorn party!" gasped Joe, pointing excitedly.

"WHY WASN'T I INVITED!?" Apocalypsia shouted, looking around with wide, frantic eyes.

There was another blinding flash and Apocalypsia was left alone.

* * *

><p><strong>CPG AN: Rereading after three years made me really happy. I really hope you guys stuck with this fic, because reading this reminded me that Bram and I have a **_**lot **_**of plans for it. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter, next one will come soon (I'm glaring at you, Bramblepool). Please review!**


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